


Kiss, Live With, Push off a Cliff;

by tmntransformer



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, i'm in kurodai hell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-05-01 11:12:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 108,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5203640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmntransformer/pseuds/tmntransformer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’d live with him.” He says slowly, watching surprise flitter across Bokuto’s face before the glee takes over as he continues. “Then I’d kiss him.” He imagines the expression Sawamura would make if he ever did try to kiss him. Equal parts confused and disgusted he thinks, something sinking low inside his stomach at the thought of it. “I’d have to throw myself off the cliff.” He realises. “It would be the only way.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea. I'm not sure where it's going.

As with most problems in his life, Kuroo attributes this one as being solely Bokuto’s fault. It’s him after all, who plops himself down on the bench next to Kuroo during one of their breaks at their joint training camp and nudges his shoulder against his.  
  
”Ohoho,” he greets with an eyebrow wiggle.  
  
“Ohoho?” Kuroo replies, nudging him back.  
  
Bokuto pries open his water bottle with his front teeth, popping the spout up and squeezing the water out from it a hand span away from his face. Only about half of the water makes it into his mouth, the rest dribbling down his chin and spraying onto his face. He takes a few deep, raggedy breaths before turning to grin at Kuroo. Kuroo has seen this same grin hundreds of times before; there’s mischief afoot.  
  
“So,” he feigns nonchalance, eyes darting around the room before taking purchase on something. Kuroo follows his gaze. Kenma is slouched against a wall, towel draped across his shoulders, Gameboy held tightly in both hands. Next to him, leaning off of his shoulder, the orange shrimp is cooing enthusiastically at whatever is happening on the screen. It’s hard to tell from across the room but Kuroo thinks he makes out a small smile playing on Kenma’s face. He finds himself smiling too. He’s glad that Kenma has made a friend all of his own.  
  
“The orange shrimp” asserts Bokuto back in his ear, when Kuroo had almost forgotten he was there. Bokuto’s eyes flit about again, “Freckles,” Kuroo snaps his head to the direction Bokuto is staring at, finding the freckley first year from Karasuno nibbling on a rice ball, “ooor,” Bokuto drags out the ‘o’ sound like a drumroll, “Noya!” He looks completely satisfied with himself. Kuroo stares at him.  
  
“Haaah?” Bokuto’s face falls into a small pout.  
  
“C’mon bro! We do this every time, and now we have new people!” His knees have started to jitter underneath him, trying to cope with his nervous and excited energy, eyes darting between the three from before suspiciously. “I’ll go first, if you want.” He licks his lips. Comprehension dawns on Kuroo.  
  
“Kiss, live with, push off a cliff?” he asks, laughing at how Bokuto nods his head eagerly. He’s right; they do play this every time. The fact that now Karasuno was in the mix hadn’t even occurred to him.  
  
“Okay, okay,” he sighs, looking critically between the three again. “I’d kiss the shrimp,” he decides slowly, “live with Freckles, I guess, so” he focuses on Noya who is involved in some kind of yelling competition with Tanaka, eyes crinkling at the edges, and feels a bit guilty, “Noya has to go over the cliff.”  
  
Bokuto laughs slightly, “really? You’d live with Freckles?” He cocks his head to the side, looking at Kuroo as if he’s said something unexpected.  
  
“Well,” he feels the need to justify, “I feel like he’d be clean and quiet is all.” And a bit of a pushover, he secretly thinks.  
  
“But if you lived with the shrimp,” Bokuto counters, “then Kenma would be more likely to visit you.”  
  
“Ah!” Kuroo hadn’t even thought about that. “Woah, you’re right bro! Kinda overlooked that. I mean, don’t you think his head would explode if you kissed him?”  
  
Bokuto nods enthusiastically, “Probably be his first kiss. I forgot you were such a pervert!”  
  
“Am not!” Kuroo bumps his knee into his friend’s. “Go on then, Mr. Wouldn’t Dream of Corrupting Poor Shrimpy, what’s your answer?”  
  
Bokuto doesn’t need to think about it, “Freckles has to get pushed off the cliff I’m sorry to say.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all, “I’d live with Noya and-“  
  
“So you’d kiss Shrimpy too!”  
  
“Just,” splutters Bokuto, the tips of his ears slightly pink, “think he’d be cute is all.”  
  
“Ah-huh,” Kuroo nods in agreement, grinning slyly at Bokuto, “you’re a pervert too.”  
  
Bokuto makes an indignant noise at the back of his throat, “Bro!” he wails in mock offense, back going straight before his eyes slide over to where the shrimp is listening with rapt attention at whatever explanation Kenma is giving him. “Maybe a bit.” He admits in defeat.  
  
“Alright, alright, I’ve changed my mind. I’ll live with the shrimp.” Bokuto narrows his eyes at him. “That way you and Kenma will wanna visit me all the time.” Bokuto’s eyes go wide. He attempts to disguise his splutters behind a cough and Kuroo is nice enough to ignore it for once. “Glasses,” he nods in Tsukishima’s direction, “Onaga” he looks pointedly at Fukurodani’s middle blocker, who’s laughing at whatever Komi is telling him, “or Lev!” he doesn’t see Lev around but they both know who he is, so it’s not entirely necessary.  
  
“Ohoho! A face off of the middle blockers, you sly cat!” Bokuto looks thrilled with Kuroo’s choices, slouching his shoulders down conspiratory before adding, “definitely a pervert bro, they’re all innocent first years after all.” After looking at Kuroo’s face, his grin splits wide, “don’t worry, I’ll keep your desires to corrupt the innocent a secret.” He winks as Kuroo groans. “Lev is being pushed off the cliff, no doubt about it.” He nods sagely, “I’ll live with Onaga because I’m such a loving senpai.”  
  
“So you’re going to kiss Glasses?” For some reason Kuroo is surprised. Bokuto looks over his shoulder at Tsukishima.  
  
“Wouldn’t be so bad,” he reasons, “plus I doubt he’d ever tell anyone.”  
  
“Ohohoho!” Kuroo booms in his face. “After a sordid, secret, love affair? Now who’s corrupting the innocent!”  
  
Bokuto grins wickedly. “I wonder if his glasses would get fogged up.”  
  
“You’ve sold me, I’m kissing Glasses too.”  
  
“Lev going off the cliff.” Bokuto nods along, perhaps imagining a peaceful life where Lev doesn’t constantly lope around awkwardly.  
  
“No,” corrects Kuroo, “never push a team mate over if you can help it.”  
  
“You don’t mean? Onaga?” Bokuto clasps his fist over his heart. “My kouhai. He did nothing to deserve this.” He mourns this loss for all of a minute before, “Azumane, Suga-san, Sawamura.”  
  
“Suga-san?” repeats Kuroo, slightly baffled.  
  
“Well,” Bokuto looks sheepish again, “Suga then.” Kuroo thinks for a moment, not bothering to hide his obvious gaze as he studies Karasuno’s third years, deep in conversation.  
  
“Kiss Azumane,” he decides eventually.  
  
“Really?” Bokuto looks honestly confused, as if he’d already envisioned Kuroo slam-dunking Azumane right over the cliff’s edge. “I guess he’s innocent…” he voice trails off, eyebrows wiggling once more.  
  
“That’s not it! He’s just taller than me! It’d be different. Also his hair is a thing to consider.”  
  
“Ohoho”, chirps Bokuto, “hair kink coming back in full force.”  
  
“Bro!” Kuroo can feel the beginnings of a blush forming on his face. “I don’t have a hair kink!” Bokuto gives him a withering look.  
  
“Inuoka, Konoha, even Kenma," he reels off, "all given creepy Kuroo kisses.” His hand unconsciously moves to rake through his own long hair, sliding through the spikes with ease before he smiles fondly at Kuroo, “you can play with my hair if you want bro, alleviate that kink of yours somewhat.”  
  
“It’s not a kink!” Kuroo yelps, louder than necessary, causing Kageyama to falter in his steps as he walks past, spluttering and red in the face. Bokuto lets out a hoot of laughter.  
  
“Fine, fine, your feelings for long hair are normal and pure,” he placates, completely unconvinced, “you’re just giving Azumane a kiss for his height. I get it. We all want to feel small and precious sometimes.”  
  
“Deep, bro.” Bokuto flashes him a grin. “Your Suga-san is getting sent over the edge I’m afraid.”  
  
“You’d live with Sawamura?!” Bokuto gawks in the direction of the third years, tilting his head at an angle as is if assessing something.  
  
“He seems cool.” Justifies Kuroo, not really getting why that was a weird choice. “And we’re Captains… it’s something in common to talk about.” He motions his hand around in the air.  
  
“I’d definitely kiss Suga-san.” Sighs Bokuto dramatically. “I’d even settle for kissing just that mole under his eye.”  
  
“Ohoho, who’s harbouring weird kinks now bro?!” Bokuto slams his shoulder into Kuroo’s, ignoring his surprised yelp.  
  
“You can’t shame me with this one. I’m Kotaro Bokuto and I find that mole adorable.” He confesses, overly loudly, not an ounce of disgrace or embarrassment in his voice. “Which means your roommate has to go. I’m not sorry.”  
  
“Huh?” Kuroo stares at his friend. “You’re going to live with Azumane?” He tries to picture it. Tall, quiet, peaceful, shy Azumane existing in a space that loud, booming, hooting Bokuto flaps around in. Them living together. Consistently. In what world would that ever happen?  
  
“I’d have to.” Bokuto crinkles his nose, as if he too realises living with Azumane would end up destroying the gentle giant’s sanity.  
  
“Why? If you lived with Sawamura, would Suga not bring his mole around for play dates all the time? Infinite kisses.” He muses, as Bokuto stares at him as if he is being dense on purpose.  
  
“Infinite kisses, bro, but not from me.” His eyebrows furrow. “You think Sawamura would just sit around and let me kiss his boyfriend?”  
  
“ _Haaah_?” Kuroo feels all the blood rush to his face as his heart thumps loudly in his chest. He whips his head back round to stare at where the Karasuno third years are still deep in conversation. Suga is saying something obviously funny as Azumane’s shoulders shake with a silent laugh and Sawamura looks down at him with a fond grin. They’re not touching, he thinks, the space between them a normal amount. Sure, his smile is gentle and endearing, but does he himself not look at Kenma in the same way?  
  
“They’re dating?” The question escapes him in a breath of air and his mouth is suddenly dry. He fishes his water bottle off of the floor, unscrewing the cap and downing half of it without looking away from Sawamura’s face. He’s talking now, gesturing gently with his left hand and nodding softly to Azumane. “He’s gay?” His brain flies through every memory he has of interacting with Sawamura, tries to gleam if what Bokuto has just said could be the truth.  
  
“He doesn’t have a very strong sexy vibe, true.” Bokuto concedes, though that’s not what Kuroo had meant at all. Sawamura is sexy. Hot in that quietly confident way. He knows who he is, knows what he wants, and isn’t ashamed or afraid about it. He probably rolls out of bed in the morning whistling songs with birds, content with everything around him. Kuroo frowns deeply.  
  
“This changes everything.” He decides, realising that for some reason it does.  
  
“Would you find it difficult to live with him after murdering his boyfriend?” Bokuto asks sympathetically, hand patting Kuroo’s knee for added comfort. “I understand your concern bro, but we just wouldn’t tell him. Ever.” He nods his head wisely. “If I push him over a cliff first, I hope that you’ll keep my secret from Suga-san.”  
  
“His mole too, bro.”  
  
“Yes, yes, they’ll never find out.” Bokuto looks at him, his eyes widening a fraction as he takes in Kuroo’s red face properly. “Oi, bro, you okay?” He presses the back of his hand against Kuroo’s forehead, big golden eyes full of concern. “You’re burning up!”  
  
Kuroo grouses under the attention, wriggling away from the contact and slamming his hand into Bokuto’s face as he squawks. “He’s gay.” He mumbles again, feeling like he needs to go for a run or a lie down, eyes travelling unconsciously towards Sawamura.  
  
“Ohohoho!” hoots Bokuto, eyes lighting up and hands finding purchase in Kuroo’s hair, ruffling him around as Kuroo tries unsuccessfully to swat him away. Kuroo attempts to lean out of Bokuto’s reach, only to lose balance and tip backwards over the bench. Bokuto’s eyes fly wide as he realises his mistake a second too late, fingers yanking tightly in Kuroo’s hair as he’s dragged down after him. They land in a mess of limbs, Bokuto’s face smashing into Kuroo’s chest as he cries out from the loss of air.  
  
“Ohohoho,” twitters Bokuto meekly, the sound vibrating up from where he remains pressed into Kuroo, his arms grappling about uselessly on the floor trying to find purchase to push himself up. “Didn’t realise he was your type, bro.” He mumbles, Kuroo having to strain to hear properly. Bokuto’s fingers instead decide to use Kuroo’s belly as a push off point, digging into the skin below his ribcage where he’s most ticklish and causing him to wriggle, crying out a laugh despite himself.  
  
“Bro,” laughs Bokuto, watching delightedly as Kuroo tries to flinch away as his fingers descend again. “You’re so ticklish!” He throws himself fully into the task, exaggerating each drag of his fingers and jab to Kuroo’s sides until Kuroo is writhing and howling on the floor. Eventually he uses his legs to kick off of the bench; sliding his body from under Bokuto’s who lands with a soft plop on the floor. He tries to catch his breath.  
  
“He isn’t my type.” Kuroo replies, somewhat belatedly. “Just surprised me.”  
  
“His hair’s too short. He’s already been defiled.” Lists off Bokuto, grin still sitting smugly across his face. “Plus, he’s way too boring.”  
  
“He’s not boring.” The defence spills out of him before it’s even crossed his mind. He slams his mouth shut into a tight line. Bokuto’s eyes gleam, his grin stretching ever wider, the mischievous one from before. Kuroo regards him with caution.  
  
“And now that you know he’s gay,” he speaks slowly, quietly. Kuroo didn’t even know he had it in him to use such a hushed voice. “All you can think about are his big hands travelling through your hair, or is it your hands exploring his broad shoulders? Maybe you’re a fan of his thighs? You keep picturing yourself crawling up from his feet, maybe taking a long lick-”  
  
“Bro!” Kuroo knows he’s screamed way too loudly. His face radiates heat as several people pause around them to regard the two, splayed on the floor as they are, with some interest. Without turning his head he knows Sawamura’s looking at him. Can feel his dark eyes boring into the back of his head. He swallows.  
  
“You can’t live with him.” Bokuto decides, his voice back to its usual volume. “Because you’re such a pervert you’d be unable to keep your hands to yourself.” His eyes are challenging, and well, Kuroo has never been one to turn down a challenge.  
  
“I’d live with him.” He says slowly, watching surprise flitter across Bokuto’s face before the glee takes over as he continues. “Then I’d kiss him.” He imagines the expression Sawamura would make if he ever did try to kiss him. Equal parts confused and disgusted he thinks, something sinking low inside his stomach at the thought of it. “I’d have to throw myself off the cliff.” He realises. “It would be the only way.”  
  
Bokuto’s answering hoots are lost as coach Nekomata blows on his whistle, signalling the end of break.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not actually sure if they rotate positions in Haikyuu? So let's just pretend they do.

“Bokuto-san said something weird to you again.” Kenma asserts, his thumbs tapping insistently on his Gameboy, eyes not leaving the screen for even a moment. Kuroo raises one arched eyebrow at his friend, a look of perfect skepticism taking over his face. A look completely lost on Kenma, whose attention doesn’t lift from the game in front of him.

“What makes you say that?” Kuroo knows the answer to this question. For the rest of the day he’d found himself filled with a strange nervous energy whenever his path crossed with Sawamura’s.

Even during matches. Sometimes he’d go for entire rotations around the court without remembering. Other times he’d find his rotation matched Sawamura’s in exactly the wrong way; only the net separating them. Once or twice he'd caught the air that Sawamura had just breathed out, his scent faint but detectable. Out of the corner of his eye he’d notice the definition of Sawamura’s legs as he turned, the contract of muscles flowing across his thighs. He’d found himself sweating more than he usually would in a practice match, face redder than usual, his breath harder to catch. Bokuto’s words had been echoing around his skull like a curse – _you keep picturing yourself crawling up from his feet, maybe taking a long lick_ – well now I do asshole, he thinks furiously.

He couldn’t work it out at first. Sure, Sawamura is hot, but he’s always been hot. Kuroo had noticed it the first time they’d met, thought about it often enough. Only now, now there’s the possibility that Sawamura is gay. Sawamura might _like_ guys. Kuroo _is_ a guy. He’d categorised Sawamura in his mental box of “look don’t touch”. Only now, however slight, there was a chance he’d be allowed to open the box. His imagination had been running riot ever since.

“You were distracting.” Kenma replies softly. Kuroo can hear the underlying meaning in his words: you were distracted. And he had been distracted. Fascinated by Sawamura’s wrists as they flicked the ball expertly upwards, entranced by his quick eyes and the way his mouth was always rolling around praises for his teammates. _Good serve, nice save, great work._ Kuroo is a captain too, but almost sure he doesn’t compliment his team in the same unrelentingly proud fashion. Even when the shrimp had messed up a simple toss, his voice had been calm, reassuring, and full of confidence for his team’s ability to be strong. After they lost he’d walked away from the court, ruffling Noya’s hair with a smug smile flirting across his face. It unnerved Kuroo in a way he wasn’t expecting or prepared for.

“I was-” Kuroo mumbles, his defence falling short as he realises he has no real excuse. He’d been off his game enough that Kenma had noticed. Sure it was only training camp and all the matches were practice, but he’d have to play against Sawamura in a real match at some point. As captain he couldn’t afford any distractions. “Sorry.”

The lack of taunting quip or teasing remark in his response causes Kenma to slide his gaze across his best friend’s face momentarily. Kuroo is fiddling nervously with his pyjama top, teeth worrying at his lip and gaze far away. He’s still distracted, Kenma affirms, sighing heavily.

“You’re being a bad friend.” Kenma inflicts just the right amount of gentle scorn in this statement to cause Kuroo to stop his fidgeting and stare at him.

“Kenma!” He wails, pout over-the-top, inching closer to his friend, his knees starting to encroach on his futon. He stares at him with big, round eyes. “Don’t be mad! I’ll sleep on it! Tomorrow I’ll be fine.” He says it with such forced conviction that Kenma doesn’t believe him for a second.

“If you don’t tell me what’s wrong, how can I help?” Kenma lists off boredly, refusing to give Kuroo any attention.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Kuroo mutters and broadly speaking that’s the truth. He’s fine. The team is fine. They played well today, despite their captain’s wavering focus.

Kenma hums softly, the smallest of creases dipping in his forehead. He’s unimpressed, Kuroo realises with dread. The tapping of Kenma’s thumbs across his Gameboy are the only sounds that fill the room afterwards.

Neither of them finds the silence awkward, but Kuroo has known Kenma for enough time to know that he won’t talk to him again until he parts with the truth. He rolls the thought around his brain, trying to conjure up the most subtle and unimpassioned way of asking him. _Hey, you think Sawamura-san might be gay?_ He cringes inwardly, that won’t work. _I hear the shrimp’s captain and Suga are a thing?_ He shakes his head to himself: definitely not. Kenma would immediately know who he had heard such a thing from. _Ever noticed that Karasuno’s captain has perfectly sculpted thighs?_ Perfectly sculpted might be coming on too strong, but how else could he describe them? Kuroo squeezes his eyes shut, breathing in deeply.

“Sawamura has thighs.” He finds himself blurting, eyes snapping open to watch as Kenma’s eyebrows raise a fraction of an inch, his eyes flickering for all of two seconds at Kuroo before he refocuses his attention on his game.

“Yes,” Kenma agrees, placing the word carefully between them as if he’s trying to coax a wild animal in from the rain, “he does.”

“Right, right!” Kuroo nods happily at his friend, feeling like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders, and relaxing onto his own futon. He rolls himself onto his back, hands resting behind his head. “I’m glad you understand.” Kenma watches his friend over the top of his console. Kuroo sighs deeply, eyes flittering closed, his cheeks turning a faint pink. It would be inconsiderate, Kenma thinks, for him to mention how he does in fact not understand. Especially when Kuroo looks so peaceful. He mulls over their conversation as he continues to play his game. Perhaps Bokuto-san had insisted Sawamura-san didn’t have thighs.

Later, Yaku and Lev return from the bathroom, Yaku growling periodically at his soaking towel and pyjamas as Lev yelps insistent apologies that sound like the opposite to Kenma.

“Yaku-san, I’m sorry you’re so small! I honestly couldn’t see you!” Kenma watches Yaku’s eyebrow twitch, his lip rolling into a firm grimace. “Yaku-san,” Lev’s voice grates, “I swear, next time I’ll crouch when you’re in the bathroom with me!” Kenma decides Lev deserves that elbow to the stomach.

Yaku moves his futon as far away from Lev’s as possible, rolling himself into his blanket like a burrito and muttering a soft “goodnight Kenma”, disregarding Lev entirely. Lev bounces awkwardly from foot to foot, eyes burning holes into the back of Yaku’s head.

“I’m sorry!” he shouts to nobody in particular before firing himself down dejectedly on his own futon. Kenma worries for a moment that Lev might actually cry, until, “Kuroo-san is asleep? Already?”

Kenma doesn’t look away from his game as he hums an agreement. Lev tucks his legs underneath himself, holding his feet in his hands and rocking himself back and forth.

“He’s alright, right?” He asks. “Today he seemed kind of…” Lev nods meaningfully in Kenma’s direction, eyes widening as if he intends to share his thoughts telepathically.

“Goodnight Lev.” Kenma responds, not looking up from his game, or making any obvious move to go to bed himself. Lev pouts, muttering under his breath, before trying to fold his limbs under his own blanket. He’s almost successful. Kenma sighs. Even Lev had noticed.

* * * *

Kuroo wakes up first, still smiling. Today, he thinks to himself, is going to be great. It feels like his body is coping with an excess amount of energy, but that’s fine. Great in fact; he can use this in their matches. He crawls across to where Kenma is curled on his side fast asleep, a trail of dribble sliding down his chin and collecting on his pillow. He’s lucky he’s so cute really. Kuroo reaches out and pinches each of Kenma’s cheeks between his thumbs and forefingers. He drags them out and inwards gently, pulling enough that Kenma is sure to notice, but not enough to hurt. He’s always been a light sleeper after all. Sure enough, on the fourth pull outwards Kenma’s eyes flicker open. He regards Kuroo with mild contempt.

“Why?” he asks meekly, eyes blinking rapidly to gain his bearings.

“Breakfast time, Pudding-Head.” Kuroo trills, laughing at the scowl this earns him. Kenma sits up anyway, hands rubbing at the corner of his eyes and yawning widely.

“What time is it?”

“Breakfast time!” In actuality Kuroo has no idea. The sun is streaking slightly through the window, so it can’t be obscenely early. Kenma regards him.

“Are you okay?” he asks after a moment, mouth dipping in a down-curve on one side.

“Okay?” Kuroo leans back on his heels, nodding his head. “I’m fine. Oh no, no, no,” he immediately retracts, throwing his arms out in front of himself frantically. “I’m more than fine. You know what I am, I’m great!” He smiles broadly at Kenma, left hand sweeping through his hair to ruffle along the back of his head. Kenma concludes that Kuroo is the opposite of fine. He couldn’t be less fine if he tried. It’s too early for this, he thinks, looking regretfully at his bed.

“ _Kenmaaa_ ”, Kuroo pleads, pitiful expression taking over his face. Kenma sighs in defeat, dragging himself from under his blanket as Kuroo beams broadly, whooping loudly into the air.

“Shut up.” Yaku’s pillow hits Kuroo on the side of his head at the same moment that Lev shoots up like a jack-in-the-box.

“Did someone say breakfast?” Kuroo cheers, jumping up to ruffle Lev’s hair and drag him out of bed. Kenma sighs; definitely too early for this.

Kuroo is happily surprised to discover they’re not the first to breakfast; they’re a normal amount of early. Yamamoto, Tanaka and Noya are already yelling, despite being crowded next to each other, Noya spraying rice out in every direction when he opens his mouth. Lev’s eyes light up, making a bee-line for the trio. From what Kuroo can tell they’re having an eating competition of some kind. Yamamoto heralds Lev with a loud shout, Tanaka responding by pressing his forehead onto Yamamoto’s and growling furiously. Kuroo chuckles as he follows Kenma to an unoccupied table. A fine, fine, day.

He’s slurping on the straw of his milk container, smiling fondly at Kenma who looks annoyed with himself for leaving his Gameboy in their room, when he feels a heavy hand land on his shoulder. Assuming it to be Bokuto, Kuroo whips round beaming.

“Ohoho!” he chirps, before his eyes go wide. Sawamura looks at him curiously. Kuroo sucks in a sharp breath, forgetting his straw is still hanging loosely out of the side of his mouth. As he nearly chokes to death on his straw, coughing and spluttering, Kenma looking on in second-hand embarrassment, all he can really think about it how large and warm Sawamura’s hands are as they thump his back.

“Woah,” Sawamura is coaxing gently, “you’re okay, you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.” Kuroo squeaks, throwing his arm backwards in between them like a shield. “I’m great.” He corrects after a moment when he thinks he can breathe normally again.

“Your face is pink.” Notes Kenma and Kuroo can almost hear Bokuto’s hooting laughter when he finds out about this. He musters all the bravado he can manage, decidedly ignoring the fact that he’s still in his pyjamas and refusing to notice how Sawamura is also in his. Of course he’s still in his pyjamas, he thinks to himself, what kind of person comes to breakfast in their volleyball kit? He orders his eyes to focus on Sawamura’s face and not how his long grey pants hang lowly on his hips, showing off a sliver of his belly and a dip of each hip, to ignore how his top is slightly baggy revealing his collar bone, and to definitely not think about the fact that there’s a big sleeping panda on the front of it because it’s too early and he’s only human. Their gazes lock.

“To what do we owe this pleasure?” Kuroo’s mouth turns up in a confident smirk. He rests his head on one elbow, twisting his body to give Sawamura his full attention. Sawamura raises an eyebrow quizzically but is nice enough to act like Kuroo didn’t just humiliate himself first thing in the morning, and isn’t currently blushing from ear to ear. He shrugs noncommittally as if he had no particular reason to come over.

“Didn’t peg you for an early bird.” Sawamura tells him.

“He isn’t usually.” Pipes Kenma helpfully. Kuroo can’t help but wonder if he’s doing this on purpose. Maybe he should have allowed Kenma to return for his Gameboy when he’d realised halfway to breakfast that he didn’t have it. This must be his form of revenge.

“These camps always bring it out of me!” he beams up at Sawamura. He’s never seen him from this angle before, above him. His presence is even stronger like this, looming over him and overriding all of Kuroo’s senses. _We all want to feel small and precious sometimes_ , his brain supplies; he really is going to punch Bokuto when he sees him. Sawamura chuckles, a deep, smooth sound that Kuroo thinks he could happily drown in. He brings his hand up and ruffles the back of Kuroo’s hair.

“I always thought you styled it to look like that.” He marvels, eyes bright and smile wide. Before Kuroo has managed to process what has happened Sawamura’s gaze flickers behind him, taking in the ruckus and mess the others are causing. A defeated sigh leaves the side of his mouth “Noya! Tanaka!” he cries out, moving away from Kuroo, his fingers slipping through his hair. Kuroo watches his back stunned. He notices Kenma’s gaze and groans heavily, dropping his head onto the table with a thud.

“Did that just happen?” he asks into the table, not really expecting a reply. He rolls his eyes upwards to stare at Kenma. “He has hands!” he moans, replaying the sensation of them running through his hair gently, remembering the solid, sure thumps on his back. Kenma’s eyes narrow, the same look he gets when he’s trying to defeat a particularly difficult boss level.

“I’m glad you understand.” Kuroo smiles at his friend.

* * * *

Tomorrow is not better, Kenma notes. If anything Kuroo is worse. He was nice enough to overlook his giddy demeanour in the morning and put up with his uncharacteristic blundering over breakfast, but watching him on the court is something else entirely. For the first time in Kenma’s memory Kuroo’s focus lies elsewhere and not on the game in front of him. His reactions are a second slower than usual, his eyes darting about aimlessly instead of targeting the ball. He’s lost his confidence, Kenma thinks, but doesn’t understand when or why. He fumbles on the court more than once, throwing apologies at the rest of his teammates. Kai has been staring at him bewildered all day.

“Kuroo-senpai is acting weird.” Hinata tells him during a break, watching Nekoma’s captain instead of the game Kenma is playing like he usually does. Kenma nods in agreement, thinking over the last two days.

“Sawamura-san has thighs,” he relays, thinking that maybe Hinata will be able to decipher this code better than he can.

“Sawamura-senpai?” Hinata parrots, tilting his head at an angle to stare at the side of Kenma’s face. “Has thighs?”

“Hands too.” Kenma confirms, remembering Kuroo’s distress over breakfast. Hinata studies Kenma’s expression, nodding slowly. He looks around the room and stares at Sawamura before looking down.

“I have thighs,” he mutters, “hands too.” He looks critically at himself. “Big isn’t always better you know. I’m small but I can jump!” His hands close into tiny fists and he stares back up at Kenma, eyes bursting with passion. Kenma considers what Hinata has just said.

“Sawamura-san has big thighs and hands?” Is Kuroo feeling inferior? He doesn’t really get it; Kuroo’s taller after all, and he’s never let anybody else intimidate him.

“Do you- do you, uhm, do you _like_ big thighs and hands?” Hinata splutters quickly, tongue falling over itself, a blush growing on the bridge of his nose.

“Like them?” Kenma pauses his game, staring at Hinata uncomprehendingly. He motions with one hand to his own body, “I’m small too.” Hinata’s face splits into a wide smile, dazzling Kenma momentarily. He leans into Kenma’s space, both hands coming to rest on his shoulder.

“I like small things!” he screeches, face burning bright. Hinata’s face is so red that Kenma worries it’s become contagious; the tips of his ears feel warm.

“Kuroo,” he whispers in the small space between them, “likes big hands and thighs?” He feels like he’s on the cusp of understanding what’s been bothering Kuroo. Hinata lets out a squawk, hands falling abruptly from Kenma’s shoulders, eyes flying wide open.

“Kuroo-senpai!” he announces in surprise, as if hadn’t been the one to start this conversation. “Kuroo-senpai,” he repeats in mild fascination, “ _likes_ Sawamura-senpai?” Kenma stares at his friend, mind short-circuiting. He briefly thinks about Kuroo’s pink face as fell asleep last night, the flaming blush he’d worn at breakfast and the way his eyes had followed after Sawamura. He realises now that it’s only been during matches against Karasuno where Kuroo has really been noticeably off. His focus slightly shifted, away from the game and onto-

“Oh.” Kenma breathes, “Shouyou, you’re a genius.” He looks up at the gym, searching for Kuroo, missing the impact his praise has on Hinata. Kuroo’s stood by the side of the far court, gesturing wildly to Lev who’s hanging his head as Yaku looks on triumphantly. Bokuto is perching one arm on his shoulder, nodding along. Saraukui stands a foot behind them, spinning a volleyball on his fingertip impatiently. Even from this distance Kenma can see how differently Kuroo’s behaving. He’s standing up straight, sure of himself, confidence radiating off of him in waves; everybody hanging on his every word. Sawamura is nowhere in sight.

He begins his game again, Hinata deciding to scooch closer now to watch. Kenma tilts the screen slightly towards Hinata so he can see better; he deserves a reward for helping him anyway. In his ear Hinata starts to hum along with the background music and Kenma realises something.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have told you that.” He contemplates, frowning as his character misses a shot. Hinata pauses in his humming, replying without hesitation.

“Don’t worry; I’ll keep it a secret.” He smiles warmly, whistling low in his throat after a moment. “Nice shot Kenma!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even ship Hinata & Kenma... I don't know how this happened. 
> 
> ( ⚆ _ ⚆ )


	3. Chapter 3

Kuroo lies down on his front, face squashed into his pillow, and breathes in deeply. He’s still in his volleyball kit, on top of his blanket. He mumbles something incoherent, his voice swallowed by his pillow. Kenma doesn’t react, peacefully clicking away at his console, sat cross-legged on his own futon. Unlike Kuroo he has already showered. His face is slightly pink from the warm water and his hair is damp, flicking at the ends. Kuroo rolls onto his side to peek at his friend.

“On a scale of one to ten,” he repeats, into the room this time, “how much of a disaster was today?” Kenma hums thoughtfully, eyebrows furrowing marginally as his character fails to make a long jump.

“It wasn’t a disaster.” He decides.

“Hah? You’re joking right?” Kuroo raises one eyebrow. “I was useless. I fumbled the ball at least a dozen times.”

“Yes,” Kenma agrees. Kuroo hadn’t played so badly for a couple of years at least. There’s a brief pause before he adds, “only against Karasuno. You played well in our other matches.” Kuroo groans.

“How is that not a disaster?” He doesn’t expect an answer, rolling himself onto his back to stare at the ceiling, but Kenma responds anyway. His voice is soft, calming Kuroo, even if that’s not his intention.

“We still won.” Kuroo sighs. He can hear Kenma’s unspoken reassurance: Nekoma is a team. They support one another. If Kuroo fumbles the ball a dozen times, then someone will be waiting behind him to catch it for him. He closes his eyes.

“Was it obvious?” He’d noticed Yaku sending him meaningful glances all day. Kai had seemed to be keeping a closer eye on him than usual too.

“Lev noticed yesterday.” Kuroo folds his arm over his eyes, groaning loudly. If Lev had noticed yesterday, there was no way anyone else on the team hadn’t; even Yamamoto was more perceptive than Lev.    

“And to you, this isn’t a disaster? If anything happens that you classify as a disaster, I hope I’m not around to witness it.”

“Nobody knows why you’re distracted.” Reasons Kenma carefully. He’s thought about the situation once or twice since his conversation with Hinata. If Hinata’s correct, he really does owe him one. He’s mindful however of the possibility that Hinata is wrong. Kuroo has told him twice now that he’s thankful that Kenma understands. He doesn’t want to let him down.

“Oh.” Kuroo’s voice drops to a deep pitch. “That would be a disaster.” He nods solemnly to himself and the ceiling. “Bokuto’s probably figured it out by now.” He cringes. “His stupid laugh was haunting me all day.”

“He was more vocal than usual.” Kuroo chuckles as Kenma’s phone chimes. It’s an up-beat, trilling sound that Kuroo’s sure he’s never heard before. He slides his eyes over and watches Kenma. Kenma pauses his game, tapping away for a moment on his phone.

“Shouyou’s coming.” Kenma tells him.

“Ohoho,” Kuroo’s face splits into a sly grin, “the shrimp has his own noise?” Kenma is his oldest friend. He’d been the one to originally suggest to Kenma to give personalised tones to people whose messages he’d want to reply to, after he’d consistently favoured his game over replying to Kuroo. At the time he’d been the only person Kenma had given one to.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better.” Kenma looks at him briefly before continuing his game. He’s right too; Kuroo is feeling better. He likes to be left to wallow in self-pity and it helps to have someone around he can tease. Kenma is just the perfect kind of friend who would provide him with both.

“How long have you been feeling,” Kenma hesitates, “distracted?” Kenma’s question only surprises Kuroo because it’s him who is asking it. Kenma doesn’t usually concern himself with other people’s feelings unless they’re the ones to bring it up; he doesn’t like to pry. He hadn’t asked him how long he’d been distracted, but how long he’d been _feeling_ distracted.

“Is this a feeling?” The question leaves Kuroo’s mouth before he’s thought about it properly. Kenma blinks at him over the top of his console.

“It isn’t?” He sounds unsure. Kuroo turns back to the ceiling. He lets out a deep breath. He finds Sawamura attractive, that much he’s aware of. Since yesterday it’s become an obvious distraction, his mind running away with itself because Bokuto supposes he’s gay. But does that make it a feeling?

He closes his eyes, thinking about the curve of Sawamura’s calves, the defined line of his jaw, the sureness in which he carries himself. The intense dark brown of his eyes. He thinks about this morning when Sawamura’s hand had patted him on the back, strong and comforting, then passed through his hair so gently moments later. But these things are all physical aren’t they? He grumbles slightly to himself, frown downturned. It’s not really a feeling.

He thinks about how Sawamura had looked in his pyjamas, cosy and warm. Sexy too with his hips nearly on display and shirt teasing with how much neck it was revealing. The way his laugh seemed to rumble out from his very core. The growl that left him when scolding Tanaka and Nishinoya. The softness in his eyes whenever he’s talking to Sugawara. How attentive he is around Azumane. The stretch of his arm and determination etched into his face when he jumps for the ball. The pride in his eyes when one of his teammates scores a point, much bigger than when it’s him who scores it. The firmness of his grip when they shake hands after a match and the promise laced into his voice, strong and sure, “next time.”

When had he started to notice all these things? When was it exactly that he had begun cataloging these moments away? When was the first time that he’d seen Hinata talking animatedly to Sawamura, his eyes lighting up like stars at being the sole focus of someone so cool, and thought _hey, me too._

"Ah.” Kuroo sits up slowly, rubbing the corners of his eyes. Kenma doesn’t need to look away from his game to know that Kuroo’s face is pink.

“Gwah!” Kuroo jerks his head, looking through his fingers towards the doorway at the sound. “Kuroo-senpai!” Hinata yelps, eyes darting about the room frantically. “I thought you were still practicing!”

Kuroo smiles slowly, watching as Hinata removes his shoes at the door before crawling towards Kenma. He curls in on himself, leaning on his front knees, head peering over the top of Kenma’s shoulder to watch the game. Like Kenma he has already washed and is in his pyjamas. His hair looks like it was ruffled half-heartedly with a towel and he’s wearing a jumper at least two sizes too big for him. He coos down at the screen, eyes shining.

“Cool!” The corner of Kenma’s mouth tips up in a small smile.

“You thought _I_ was still practising?” Kuroo asks him, grinning amusedly, “aren’t you usually the last to leave?”

“Ack!” Hinata splutters, eyes jumping to Kuroo’s face. “Well! I saw Bokuto-senpai and Akaashi-senpai, you usually practice with them! And Sawamura-senpai was practicing too!” He smiles warmly at Kuroo, fingers curling around each other where they rest on his knees. Kuroo stares at him. Hinata stares back, eyes shining. “And Kenma said if we played games now he might toss for me tomorrow.”

“Ohoho really?” Kuroo raises an eyebrow, leering across at Kenma, “you’re going to toss for shrimpy?” Kenma shrugs half-heartedly.

“I might do.” His eyes never leave his game, his voice steady, Kuroo notes; he’s completely unaffected. Hinata on the other hand fidgets nervously, rocking slightly on his knees as his fingers fiddle with the hem of his jumper.  

“Right, right,” Kuroo surrenders, palms up, “I get it. I can tell when I’m not wanted.” He bemoans, faking a pout as Hinata flaps where he’s crouched, insisting he can stay if he wants; it’s his room after all.

It isn’t until he’s walking down the corridor towards the bathroom, smiling to himself at how Hinata's excited chirps over how fluffy Kenma’s hair is echo down the hall, that he remembers what Hinata had said. _Sawamura-senpai was practicing too!_

* * * *

“Bro, what are you doing?” Bokuto’s hand descends heavily on the back of Kuroo’s shoulder causing him to yelp, jerking forwards and head-butting the door frame.

“I was just-” he starts, rubbing the side of his head when Bokuto interrupts loudly.

“Ohoho!” he trills, the sound echoing into the gym in front of them. “You’re such a-” before another word can leave Bokuto’s mouth Kuroo’s hands slam over the top of it. Bokuto’s eyes go wide, shocked and amused, and Kuroo squeezes his eyes closed tightly, hissing at him.

“Shh,” the sound leaves Kuroo in an urgent whisper, “not another word.” He crowds in on Bokuto, pushing him against the door frame and attempts to tower menacingly over him, despite only being half an inch taller. It doesn’t work, of course it doesn’t work, and Bokuto snorts through his nose, eyes shining. He opens his mouth. It takes a moment for the warm wetness to register to Kuroo.

“Bro!” he whines, forgetting to be quiet, “gross!” He stares down at the slobber on his hand and Bokuto crumples over on himself wheezing with laughter. Kuroo grins and throws his hand out at Bokuto, wiping it with some fervour on his shoulder and down his back. Bokuto doesn’t notice until it’s too late, grabbing Kuroo by the arm and twisting him. He jabs him a couple of times in the stomach, listening to Kuroo’s laugh stutter as his breath is forced out of him, spluttering when Kuroo retaliates by digging his fingers into his sides.

“Kuroo-san?” Lev interrupts, voice bright but confused. He stares down at both captains, eyes darting from one to the other. They pause in their antics; Bokuto with his head still twisted under Kuroo’s arm and nails digging in somewhat painfully, Kuroo draped over his back, fingers invested into his sides. Kuroo blinks, noticing now that everyone inside the gym has paused to watch the two of them wrestling in the doorway.

Yaku is standing a few feet away, watching with mild annoyance, and obviously waiting for Lev as he holds onto a ball under one arm. Noya and Azumane stand opposite each other on either sides of the net, Azumane paused in his motion to serve, ball balancing in one hand, and Noya crouched down in preparation, head twisted around and following Azumane’s gaze with interest to the door. Next to them, on the same side of the net as Azumane, Sugawara and Sawamura stand. Kuroo only knows Sugawara was practicing his setting so Sawamura could practice his spiking because he’d been watching them. With how they’re standing now, ball forgotten on the floor, Sugawara chuckling behind his hand slightly as Sawamura tilts his head in curiosity, you’d never know.

Kuroo clears his throat, focusing back on Lev. He drags one arm up, leaning his elbow on Bokuto’s back so he can rest his head on his hand.

“Thought I’d drop by to see how your practice is going!” He chirps, loud enough so that his voice carries to everyone in the gym. It’s plausible, he thinks, considering he shares a room with both Yaku and Lev. Bokuto coughs, “bullshit”, under his arm, squirming afterwards as Kuroo applies more pressure on his back, digging his elbow in firmly.

“Oh!” Lev’s smile takes up his whole face. Kuroo would probably think it was pathetic were he himself not in a particularly pathetic situation. “Yes! Cool! Come look at what Yaku-san just taught me!” Kuroo extracts himself from Bokuto, shoving him with his shoulder when Bokuto starts giggling again, eyes full of mischief.

“Why are you even here?” He mutters under his breath, following after Lev as he bounds back into place in front of Yaku. Akaashi isn’t around, nor is anyone from Fukurodani.

“I just left like a minute ago bro, forgot my water bottle.” Bokuto sings, swaggering over to a bench with great steps and plucking his water bottle off the top of it. He waggles it in the air at Kuroo before taking a gulp. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that I forgot it though.” He winks. Kuroo pointedly ignores him, turning to face his teammates.

“C’mon then.” He grins, breathing out a sigh of relief when he hears Azumane resume serving.

“Kuro-san,” Lev looks at him for a moment, “why do you have your towel with you?”

“And your shower bag…” Yaku trails off, staring at him with narrow eyes as Bokuto breaks into peals of laughter at his side. Kuroo groans, dropping his head into his hands to hide his embarrassment. His towel is still draped across his shoulders. His wash-bag still hanging on a string around his wrist. He should have run away when he had the chance. He hears the sound of a ball being fumbled, automatically quirking his gaze upwards; Sugawara is no longer trying to hide his laugh behind his hand and even Sawamura looks amused. Noya looks utterly confused as to why practice has paused again. Azumane’s face is a bright pink, reflecting Kuroo’s own he imagines. Briefly he wonders if Kenma would consider this a disaster.  

* * * *

Kuroo’s brushing his teeth, after finally having showered, when Sawamura bursts through the door. They stare at each other for a moment, Kuroo taking in the slight dampness of Sawamura’s hair and hating that big, sleeping panda sprawled smugly across his top.

“Uhm,” Kuroo comments around his toothbrush, unsure exactly what is happening.

“Sorry.” Sawamura’s eyes pan across the room slowly, “One of our first years has wandered off, I was just checking if he was in here.” His eyes land back on Kuroo, clearly satisfied that he’s the only person in the room. Kuroo nods, turning back to spit into the sink and rinse his mouth. Sawamura is half-way out of the door when Kuroo finally asks him.

“You mean the shrimp right?” He watches as Sawamura pauses mid-step, head turning to look at Kuroo and hand halting on the door handle.

Sawamura looks at him critically. “You know where Hinata is?”

Kuroo smiles slowly, feeling more self-assured than he has done all day. “Yeah,” he responds slowly, his eyes fixed on Sawamura’s, “I know exactly where he is.”  

Sawamura waits for him as he runs his toothbrush under the tap and grabs his toothpaste. He opens the door, leading Kuroo into the hallway and stops, looking at him expectantly. Kuroo looks down at him, noticing for the first time how much shorter he is – over four inches. There’s a moment of silence in which he realises they’ve never been alone together like this before, a hand-span away from each other, both fresh and warm in their pyjamas. Sawamura’s eyes flick down at his lips for just a second and Kuroo’s brain supplies him with every daydream he’s ever had. It would be so easy, to tip down and-

“Lead the way.” Sawamura breathes in between them, gesturing his hand momentarily both left and then right down the hallway. Kuroo steps back, taking in a deep breath.

“Right,” he says to help clear his head. Sawamura nods and starts to walk right and Kuroo wants to punch himself in the face. “No,” he grabs Sawamura by the shoulder, turning him gently, “I meant left.” He turns abruptly away, not wanting to see the expression on Sawamura’s face, and definitely not wanting him to see his.

“Okay,” Sawamura’s voice floats from behind him gently, “left then.”

The room Kuroo’s staying in is only three doors away from the bathroom so it doesn’t take them long to get there, it only feels like it takes a long time because Kuroo is mentally cursing himself. He wonders where his confidence that had flared in the bathroom has run off to, thinks maybe he should drag Sawamura back in there to try and find it, and almost trips over his own feet at the scenarios that breeds forth. By the time they arrive at his door he knows he’s red again. By now, he muses, Sawamura must assume that’s just the colour of his face. Perhaps he’ll think one of his parents is a strawberry.

“Here?” Sawamura looks doubtful, as if Kuroo could just be leading him off into a random room for his own personal amusement. Well. He’s not entirely wrong. Kuroo grins down at him, not trusting himself to speak anymore, and nods. He eases the door open carefully, just in case everyone is asleep. Before he went to the bathroom Lev and Yaku had been shimmying down under their blankets.

Sure enough the room is dark inside. The light from the hallway slithers in, casting a peaceful glow on the bodies scattered around. It takes them both a second to adjust to the darkness, but Kuroo knows where to go, so he pulls Sawamura inside by his inner arm, edging around Lev’s futon to stop and gesture down at Kenma’s.

“Tada,” he announces in a whisper, “one shrimp, just like you ordered.” He smiles fondly down at the pair and turns to raise an eyebrow at Sawamura. He finds Sawamura staring back at him instead of the two below and notices he’s still holding him by the arm. He lets it fall gently between them. “He can stay here. I’d feel mean to wake them.”

“Oh.” Sawamura takes note of the two below him. The pillow is wedged up against the wall, and Kuroo assumes they’d placed it there to lean on, only now it acts as a useless prop. Hinata has fallen asleep closest to it, arms and legs sprawled out in every direction and face tilted down to his left. Curled on top of his left arm, head tucked neatly under his chin, Kenma is sleeping. His head rises and falls in time with Hinata’s breathing; his hands curled under himself and his game long forgotten. The blanket is still folded neatly at the end of the futon. Kuroo kneels down and starts to unfold it when he remembers that Sawamura hadn’t said the shrimp could stay.

“Oh.” Sawamura repeats, almost fondly and Kuroo wishes he were capable of causing him to utter such gentle and perfect sounds. “I’ll be back in a second,” he rushes on, “don’t move.” Kuroo turns to look at him, but Sawamura is gone before he manages to, the door ajar and empty.

“Huh?” Kuroo asks into the room, knowing full well that everyone else is asleep, but hoping the answer will come to him anyway. Sawamura returns, before he’s decided that maybe he should just go to sleep, and looks at him. He chuckles slightly, eyes warm.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says, voice light and amused, “you can move.” Kuroo realises then that’s he’s still perched on his knees, blanket half unwrapped on his lap.

“Yes, sir.” He responds, attempting to play it off. He rolls back onto his heels, unfolding the blanket some more.

“Wait, wait.” Sawamura leans over to him, guiding Kuroo away from the sleeping duo and pushing the blanket over him. “Just a second.” He grins at Kuroo and holds up his phone. Kuroo watches fascinated as Sawamura walks around to the other side, and back again, phone held in front of his face. He takes a step away, hums contentedly, and unashamedly takes a photo. “Perfect.” He smiles at Kuroo.

“You’re secretly devious.” Kuroo marvels, a new area of his imagination sparking into life.

“Not really,” Sawamura’s smile doesn’t falter for a second, “just suppose Hinata might like it.”

“Hm.” Kuroo shifts from the floor, abandoning the blanket, and shuffles over to his own futon. He finds his phone lying on top of his pillow and stands next to Sawamura to take a picture himself. Sawamura chuckles warmly in his ear. “Suppose Kenma might like one too.” He defends softly.

When he’s finished it’s Sawamura, not Kuroo, that returns to the blanket and spreads it out unhurriedly over the top of them. He picks up Hinata’s straying leg and places it under too, tucking them both in.

“He can stay.” He says after a moment. “Now I know he’s safe it’s fine.”

“Okay dad,” Kuroo teases, trying to mask the affection he’s feeling for him by scoffing into the air. Not once has he ever done a head count for his team. Maybe Kai does?

“Hmm,” Sawamura hums thoughtfully as he stands up again. He looks at Kuroo from across the two sleeping below them and smiles so wide it splits his face into two. Kuroo startles; it’s the same smile Bokuto gives him sometimes.

“Want me to tuck you in too?” Sawamura’s voice is so deep and so soft that Kuroo thinks he might be dreaming. All of the blood in his body attempts to rush to his head and south at the same time. He groans loudly, a noise that Sawamura thankfully interprets to be one of pain judging by the way he laughs.

“You’re definitely devious.” He’s both delighted and horrified by this discovery.

Sawamura regards him, eyes shining, “I guess Suga’s rubbed off on me a bit.” He shrugs. Kuroo feels like someone has just dumped a bucket of cold water over his head. _Suga,_ his brain screams, _how did you forget about Suga? The boyfriend._

“Ah.” He means to sound understanding, but the noise leaves his throat as if he were being strangled. Sawamura cocks his head to the side. “Well,” Kuroo rapidly retreats backwards to his own futon, sitting down with a soft thud and staring at Sawamura “goodnight then!” Next to him Yaku rolls over and for an awful moment Kuroo thinks he might have been awake this entire time, his body stiffening to stare at him. He lets out a breath when he sees that he's asleep.

“Yeah,” Sawamura doesn’t look away from Kuroo’s face, studying him with furrowed brows. He stands slowly, moving with caution. He pauses outside, hand still curled around the edge of the door to stop it from closing all of the way, “next time then.” He says, smile tilted on his face. The door closes with a soft click. Kuroo stares into the now dark room.

“What?” He asks the door, before falling onto his back and groaning loudly at the ceiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I'm still not sure where this is going ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've realised a bit late that their first training camp was just a one nighter? I thought it was a weekend thing, my bad.
> 
> ...AU where it was a two-nighter to suit my needs! *little okay emoji hand from whatsapp*

“Tell me if I’ve got this right. You,” Bokuto gestures over the top of his breakfast with his spoon at Kuroo, “are telling me,” he indicates himself with the same spoon,” that Sawamura is exempt from all future rounds of 'kiss, live with, push off a cliff', because you,” he aims the spoon at Kuroo once more, “ _like_ like him?”

Kuroo nods once. That is the general gist of the situation, yes.

Bokuto stares at him. “You,” he emphasises, wielding his spoon in Kuroo’s direction now as if it is a sword, “one Kuroo Tetsurou, _like_ like one Sawamura Daichi?”

Kuroo makes a noise at the back of his throat, which he attempts to disguise as a scoffing sound and rolls his eyes at Bokuto. Bokuto narrows his own skeptically.

“That would be right, yes.” Kuroo looks across the table at his friend; his own breakfast lays untouched between them.

“Bro,” Bokuto wrinkles his nose, “this is disgusting behaviour. I am disgusted. Kenma here is disgusted.” He flips his spoon to Kuroo’s side where Kenma sits, nose deep in his video game. “You should also be disgusted. This is truly disgusting.” He plunges his spoon back into his bowl, stirring his soup with more force than necessary and causing it to splatter over the edge. “Disgusting!” He yells down at it. A few people on nearby tables, stragglers like them, pause in their own conversations to glance in his direction, eyeing their soup bowls carefully afterwards.

“Oh, no,” Bokuto back-tracks immediately, “the soup is delicious! Best in town!” He makes an elaborate show of shovelling huge spoonfuls into his mouth, appreciative noises flying from around his spoon and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. Kuroo laughs at him from across the table.

“I’m not disgusted.” Kenma speaks so softly that it takes the both of them by surprise. Bokuto physically jumps where he sits, eyes narrowing accusingly at him. Kuroo places his elbow on the table, leaning his head on his hand and stares fondly at Kenma’s profile.

“Me either.” He breathes contentedly. Bokuto’s eyes jump back and forth between the two of them, spoon hanging loosely from his thumb and forefinger and dribbling soup all over the table.

“Well I for one am disgusted.” He informs them both. “Kuroo Tetsurou, developing _feelings_.” He shudders to himself. “It’s sick. It’s sick, and you know what else, it’s wrong.”

“I _am_ sick,” marvels Kuroo, eyes glistening, “ _love_ sick.” His fingers absentmindedly create patterns in the puddles of soup on the table. Bokuto groans deeply.

“And you’re okay with this?” He asks Kenma in a shrill voice. “Your Superhero Captain has been defeated.”

“All Superheroes have weaknesses.” Kenma replies nonchalantly, thumbs tapping over his console. Kuroo barks a happy laugh.

“Mine just happens to be perfectly sculpted thighs,” purrs Kuroo, “and deep brown eyes.”

“I’m embarrassed for the both of you.” Bokuto grumbles, stirring his soup contemplatively. “How did this even happen?” He abandons his spoon on the table, gesturing frantically at Kuroo with his hands. “C’mon, out with it!”

“Ah.” Kuroo grins sheepishly, his cheeks turning faintly pink. He runs his hand through his hair, scratching the back of his head.

“On second thought, I don’t want to know.” He makes a face as if he’s swallowed something sour.

“Bokuto-san.” Both Kuroo and Bokuto turn to the side of the table where Akaashi has suddenly appeared.

“Akaashi?” Bokuto questions, tipping his head and blinking up at him with obvious confusion. Kuroo doesn’t say anything, his finger still gliding leisurely through the soup, incorporating the odd grain of rice into his work of art. Akaashi stares at them.

“You’re… quiet.”

“Ah!” Bokuto splutters, eyes darting in Kuroo’s direction as if asking for permission. Kuroo’s face is still dusted pink, his smile almost shy. “We were discussing something disgusting.” Bokuto hedges uncertainly. Akaashi stares at Bokuto.

“I see.” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He can’t remember ever having discovered the two of them in such a serious mood. He definitely doesn’t want to know.

“Coach is looking for you.” He informs him instead. “We’re going to start our morning warm up.”

“What? I haven’t even finished my breakfast!” Bokuto pouts dramatically, indicating his now mostly empty bowl. Akaashi’s eyes flit over the mess on the table, noting Bokuto’s spoon lying forgotten. He opens his mouth just as Bokuto seems to notice it too, eyes going wide and growling at Kuroo.

“This is your fault.” He accuses. “You had to tell me over breakfast.” Kuroo smiles happily back at him. “I’ll be hungry for the whole day!” Bokuto bemoans. “The day is ruined!” He slumps his head. Akaashi sighs. It’s not even nine yet and already Bokuto is having his first tantrum.

“You can have mine if you want, bro.” Kuroo slides his untouched soup across the table. Bokuto glares at him. “It’s delicious. Best in town, I heard.” He grins slyly.

“Who would want your cold, gross soup?” Bokuto grumbles. “You’ve probably infected it with your disgusting-ness.” Kuroo sighs, rolling his eyes, and turning to Akaashi.

“Hey Akaashi, want my soup?” He drags his words out longer than necessary, stressing every sound slowly. “The cafeteria is closed; it’s the last bowl.” He trills, lifting the bowl off of the table in slow motion. Akaashi stares at him with a blank expression.

“I already ate-” he begins, silencing himself at the sharp shake of Kuroo’s head. Kuroo indicates his head slightly in Bokuto’s direction and winks at Akaashi.

“I guarantee, it’s soup-er!” He jiggles the bowl, soup waving back and forth but not falling over the edge. Akaashi nods once.

“Thank you Kuroo-san,” he says flatly. “Just what I came here for.” He raises an arm to accept the bowl when Bokuto’s head snaps up.

“Hey, hey, hey Akaashi!” He moans, hand shooting out to take it back. “Why are you on his side? _I’m_ your senpai!” He continues to grumble under his breath as he shakes Kuroo’s spoon out of the bowl and discards it on the table. He picks up his own one, placing it in the soup and stirring it contemplatively. He stares up at Akaashi, golden eyes wide and earnest.

“If you really want some, we can share.” He offers, sliding as close as he can to Akaashi without standing up.

“Thank you, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi replies smoothly. “But I want you to have it.” Bokuto’s face breaks into a smile and he chirps happily to himself, slurping the soup into his mouth as if he hadn’t just announced that the day was ruined. Akaashi studies him for a second more before fixing his gaze on Kuroo. Kuroo’s elbows are on the table top; his chin resting on his linked fingers. He’s chuckling to himself, watching Bokuto fondly. One day, Akaashi thinks, he’d like to be as expert at dealing with Bokuto as Kuroo is. He makes to turn away, realising he should probably inform coach that Bokuto will be along in five minutes when Kuroo’s voice floats up.

“Ney, Akaashi, how do you feel about feelings?” Akaashi watches as Kuroo’s face flares red, Bokuto’s spoon halts half-way to his mouth and even Kenma’s gaze jerks from his screen to regard Kuroo. Akaashi replays the sentence in his mind. It makes less sense to him the second time.

“How do I feel about feelings?” He looks to Kenma for clues, after all he is the only sane person seated at the table. Kenma shrugs.

“Kuroo is love sick.” He confesses. “I’m afraid it might be terminal.” Kuroo laughs, bumping Kenma with his shoulder and congratulating him on making a joke. Bokuto interjects with a grim expression.

“Disgusting.” He doesn’t look or sound disgusted. Akaashi knows Bokuto, but even if he didn’t Bokuto’s face is like an open book; his emotions flash across his face so honestly that Akaashi is often startled speechless. Right now, as he pushes Kuroo’s empty bowl to the side announcing he’s full, he doesn’t look disgusted at all.

“Sad.” Akaashi concludes, not meaning to say it out loud. Bokuto looks a little sad. Does he think Kuroo having a crush mean they'll spend less time together?

“ _Sad_?” Kuroo twists to face him.

“Feelings make you _sad_ Akaashi?” Bokuto’s face falls into one of anguish, as if the thought of Akaashi being sad about anything causes him physical pain.

“Who hurt you?” Kuroo whispers, eyes shining sincerity, as he reaches his hand out to squeeze Akaashi’s arm comfortingly.

“I’ll kill them!” Shouts Bokuto, throwing his arms out and jumping into action. “Where are they?” His eyes flash dangerously around the room, zeroing in on Tsukishima and Yamaguchi two tables over. “Was it one of them?” He demands. Akaashi flicks him gently on to forehead before he can fly off.

“No one hurt me Bokuto-san.” He pats him twice reassuringly. “I was thinking out loud. Feelings don’t make me sad.” Bokuto stills, unsure if he should believe Akaashi or not.

“Feelings don’t make you sad?” He echoes, wholly unconvinced.

“No.”

“They’re disgusting right?” Bokuto leans in closer to Akaashi’s face, watching for any expression that might give him away.

“No.” Akaashi regards Kuroo. “I think they’re nice.” He tells him, wondering if that’s the reassurance Kuroo was seeking with his question, and knowing his answer is likely to ruffle Bokuto’s feathers; it’s difficult to appease them both at once.

“Feelings are _nice_?” Bokuto careens away from Akaashi, the fight from earlier dropping from his body as he blinks rapidly at him. “Not you too Akaashi!” He wails. “Don’t tell me you have _feelings_?” Akaashi blinks at him.

“Not really.” For some reason Akaashi feels awkward. He rolls his weight back onto the other foot, staring at Kuroo’s soup and rice mural. “I just think it would be nice.” He doesn’t look at any of them before turning and walking rapidly away. Bokuto watches his retreating back.

“Not really?” He asks Kuroo. Kuroo shrugs.

“He’s probably in love, bro,” he nods wisely, eyes gleaming. Bokuto’s face pales.

“Because that’s now your answer to everything?” Kenma sounds unimpressed, shooting Kuroo a meaningful look.

“What can I say?” Kuroo turns to Kenma. “You opened my eyes!” Kenma tuts over the top of his console.

“If it helps you play better today I guess it’s fine.”

“I should go warm-up.” Bokuto announces, voice louder than usual. He jumps up from the bench, waving over his shoulder at Kuroo and Kenma and heads for the gym still dressed in his pyjamas. Kenma raises one eyebrow as moments later he is shuffled in the opposite direction down the corridor by Komi. Kuroo turns his head slowly, looking at Kenma with a sober expression.

“He’s probably in love.” Kuroo tells him. Kenma rolls his eyes, swinging his legs around the side of the bench and pushing himself up with his hands. He wanders off grumbling under his breath and leaving Kuroo to deal with the mess on the table alone.

* * * *

Feelings are nice, Akaashi had said. Kuroo wonders what he had meant. He’s not sure he agrees. Sure, whenever he catches sight of Sawamura his stomach rolls in a strange and new way, lurching around so hard that sometimes Kuroo is sure it’s noticeable to everyone around him. And okay, whenever Sawamura has a match Kuroo’s eyes move towards his body, drawn to it like some kind of magnet, and his heart thuds loudly. And fine, he often feels like he’s not entirely connected to the ground when Sawamura’s eyes catch his gaze, his knees buckling slightly when Sawamura shoots him a smile. But he’s not sure he’d say any of that felt nice. Mostly it makes him feel awake, strangely energised as he tries to control the jitters that erupt deep inside, bubbling out of him in barks of laughter that startle his teammates. He feels less in control of his body, his limbs fidgeting constantly, his eyes wandering. It makes him feel hot and sweaty.

Feelings are nice, Akaashi had said. So maybe Akaashi has no experience with unrequited love. Of doomed love. Of knowing that for every warm smile Sawamura gives to him, he undoubtedly gives ten more to Sugawara. Of the burst of pain that jolts through him when his eyes take purchase on Sawamura relaxed on a bench during a break, chugging his water bottle at the side of the court, and realising his eyes seek out Sugawara. Of the sprinkling pain that creeps slowly, winding itself around his lungs and making it harder to breathe when Sawamura spikes the ball impressively and Sugawara is the one who gets to call out to him _nice one Daichi_. A side-effect of Kuroo being so awake is that now he never seems to miss an interaction. Every hand that rests on a back, every pat on a shoulder, every time Sugawara’s tongue rolls around his name; Kuroo collects them all. It’s entirely unfair. It’s too much and not enough all at once.

Feelings are nice, Kuroo thinks as he has to watch Sawamura get on his bus at the end of the day. He’s unsure how he used to act before so can’t work out if he’s being noticeably different. When he raises both hands to wave and Sawamura’s mouth dips into a slight frown he doesn’t know what to make of it. _Next time_ Sawamura had told him moments before, grip firm as they shook hands and Kuroo had only been capable of nodding. He breathes out slowly, walking behind Kenma to rest his chin on top of his head. The shrimp is hanging out of a window, shouting half a goodbye and half a threat to beat them next time, his eyes gleaming. Kenma doesn’t say anything, his hands stuffed in the front pouch of his hoodie, but he doesn’t need to. His Gameboy is nowhere in sight. Kuroo wants to ask him how he feels about feelings, feels the words itching to come out of him, but fears Kenma will agree with Akaashi. The shrimp doesn’t have a Sugawara.

He jumps when he hears the first broken sob rip from Yamamoto next to him. Yamamoto’s eyes are red and puffy and his nose is dribbling snot as another sob shudders from him, blabbering nonsense at the retreating bus as Tanaka and Nishinoya run down the middle and bang their fists on the back window. They make elaborate gestures with their hands that make no sense to anyone except Yamamoto who wails louder. Kuroo glances back at the bus before burying his head into Kenma’s hair so he doesn’t have to watch it fade out of sight. Feelings would be nice, he supposes, if he had a shrimp hanging out of a window or at least a pair of idiots pressing their faces up against the glass.

“Don’t worry,” Kenma offers to no one and everyone, “we’ll see them soon.”

“Kenma-san!” Yamamoto heaves between breaths, slumping his head into his inner elbow.

* * * *

Hinata is not naturally an eavesdrop. He’s almost certain this is the first time. And he doesn’t know what he should do with this new information. It’s too much. It’s perfect. He thanks the volleyball Gods for Kageyama who had tossed him the perfect ball, which he managed to perfectly spike, which caused the ball to slam onto the other side of the net and roll near Azumane, Sugawara and Sawamura, which meant he was in exactly the right place at the right time. Kageyama can sense immediately something has happened, judging from the way he starts at the smile spreading across Hinata’s face and the _what now, dumbass?_ he growls.

“Uhm, I just have to ask Kenma something really quick!” He tries to keep his voice quieter than usual, throwing the ball to Kageyama as he sprints away. No phones during practice is a rule, an _important_ rule. Hinata never breaks rules, but this is an emergency. He fires Kenma a message, ignoring his own spelling mistakes and blunt delivery, and springing back to Kageyama’s side less than a minute later. Kageyama is motionless, ball cradled loosely in his hands as he stares at Hinata with something akin to shock.

“What?” Hinata gripes, looking down at his shirt to see if he has something on it.

“You just-” Kageyama gapes, opening and closing his mouth.

“You look like a fish.”

“Dumbass! You just stopped playing volleyball!” He accuses.

“For one second!”

“You stopped playing _volleyball_ to text Kenma!” Kageyama’s voice is shrill. Hinata hisses at him to be quiet, worried that he’ll get his phone confiscated if Kageyama doesn’t shut up.

“It was an emergency, Bakeyama”, he mutters. Kageyama raises one eyebrow and for a moment Hinata wants to tell him. He’s bad at keeping secrets and has been dying to tell someone, _anyone_ , about this. But it’s not his secret to tell. And Kenma had trusted him with it. He smiles broadly. “Are you going to toss for me now?” Kageyama narrows his eyes suspiciously, but steps back into place.

If they gave out medals for patience, Hinata thinks, then he would be getting one right about now. It’s almost an hour later that coach Ukai gathers them for some parting words at the end of practice. That’s an hour Hinata has feigned normality and pretended that he isn’t privy to any extra information that he should not know. Sixty whole minutes of resisting to check if Kenma had replied yet. Three thousand and six-hundred seconds of avoiding Kageyama’s questioning gaze and acting like he isn’t sitting on the most perfect thing to happen all week. It’s even better than the buy one get one half price deal on pork buns he dreamt about last night. Hinata scrambles out of his practice kit and into his school uniform in record time, clutching his phone in his palm like it’s fragile as he unlocks it to stare at the new message. He thanks the volleyball Gods again, this time for Kenma. He walks steadily, with his phone still cradled in his palm, towards his team Captain.

Sawamura is sat on a bench, rolling his knee pads down as if he has all the time in the world. He doesn’t notice Hinata at all until Sugawara not-so-subtly nudges him in the back.

“Hinata,” his eyebrows raise in small surprise, “are you alright?”

“Mmm, hmmm, yes! Alright!” Hinata thinks he might pass out before he ever completes this self-appointed mission.

“Alright…” Sawamura trails off, staring at Hinata expectantly.

“Sawamura-senpai!” Hinata is suddenly acutely aware of all the extra pairs of eyes that have stopped to watch them. He shuffles from foot to foot and swallows. “Wah! I know- I have- it’s _important_!” He attempts to whisper but judging from the face Sawamura makes he fails. Sugawara wanders around to place a hand on Hinata’s shoulder comfortingly.

“It’s okay,” he rubs Hinata’s back slowly, from shoulder to shoulder, “he won’t bite.” Hinata blinks up at Sugawara’s face.

“Before,” he tells Sugawara, “in the gym. I heard you and Sawamura-senpai. I’m sorry!” He feels a bit guilty, chewing on his lip nervously as Sugawara continues to smile down on him, nodding happily.

“Heard us?” He questions, voice light and warm.

“Ooph,” Hinata slaps his hand into his forehead. He’s aware he’s doing this all wrong and he wants to get some kind of hold on the situation. “Before, in the gym,” he repeats more sure of himself, “you were talking about how Sawamura-senpai has an interview for a university?”

“Ohhhhh!” Sugawara’s smile blooms wider, startling Hinata. “You want to know about university already?” That’s not what he wants at all, but Hinata is glad for the misunderstanding if only because it serves to get Tsukishima to roll his eyes and stop listening in on their conversation.

“N-no,” he stammers, chancing a glance at Sawamura who is still waiting patiently on the bench. “An interview for a Tokyo university?” He hedges, sounding uncertain even though he’s pretty sure. Sawamura nods gently, so Hinata powers on. “That you can’t go to anymore because-”

“Because the date got changed last minute, and the aunt he was going to stay with for the evening is out of town that day.” Sugawara rushes through, eyes twinkling with mirth. Hinata nods his head up and down excitedly. It’s just so _perfect_!

“Sawamura-senpai,” he whisper-yells again, hunching his body forward so as to limit the amount of people who can hear them. “You should stay with Kuroo-senpai!” Sawamura’s mouth falls open slightly, his eyebrows rocketing upwards on his forehead. Sugawara’s hand abandons Hinata's back to hold over his mouth in an attempt to suppress a giggle. Hinata can feel his face flushing slightly. “H-he said before that people were welcome to stay at his house if they were in Tokyo,” he tries to justify, wondering briefly if perhaps Sawamura doesn’t find this idea as perfect as Hinata does. “He lives next door to Kenma.” He adds in a mumble.

“I don’t have his number.” Sawamura responds, staring at Hinata as if he’s grown a second head.

“Ohh! I have his number!” Hinata smiles radiantly, holding out the message from Kenma in front of Sawamura like a trophy.

“Oh Daichi,” breathes Sugawara, still failing to control his giggles, “this is so perfect.” When Sawamura fails to move, seemingly frozen on the bench, Sugawara reaches over into Sawamura's bag and plucks his phone between his thumb and forefinger. He looks down at Hinata’s screen as his fingers rapidly fly across the keys. The pinging note of a message being delivered causes Sawamura to suddenly snap into action, yelping and leaping to his feet to grab his phone back. Sugawara gives it to him easily; the damage has already been done. He ignores Sawamura completely as he groans heavily at his phone screen and focuses on Hinata, smiling brightly.

“You did well Hinata-chan.” He sings, ruffling his hair. Hinata feels like he could burst on the spot with how perfect it all is. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow update, had a lot of essays due. 
> 
> & thanks for all your lovely feedback!! I didn't realise Daichi in panda pyjamas was going to be such a hit so I may have to sneak it in to the next chapter ;D


	5. Chapter 5

Kuroo doesn’t bother to knock on Kenma’s door, kicking it open loudly with his foot and bursting into his bedroom uninvited.

“Am I in heaven or am I in hell?” He demands, voice loud and intrusive. Without waiting for a response he throws himself face first onto Kenma’s bed and screams into the blanket. Kenma swivels slightly on his desk chair, facing Kuroo even though his attention doesn’t lift from the game in front of him. He has his feet pulled onto the chair, tucked underneath him, resting his game on his knees. Kuroo rolls onto his side, his feet dangling off the edge of the bed, and fixes him with a searching look.

“What did I do to deserve this?” He throws his phone. It arches slowly before being easily caught in Kenma’s left hand. Kenma sighs heavily, as if Kuroo is deliberately going out of his way to distract him from his game. He pauses it, letting his Gameboy roll down to cradle between his thighs and stomach. He blinks at the phone screen.

“Captain Kitty Cat,” he reads slowly, eyebrows raising fractionally, “I’m in trouble and you’re the only one who can save me! I need a place to stay Friday night, can I crash at yours? I’ll really owe you one! Captain of the crows, Sawamura.” Kenma looks at Kuroo and back at the phone. “Captain Kitty Cat?” He repeats, even slower than before, his mouth dipping downwards. Kuroo whimpers, face burning.

“Captain of the crows.” He groans, dragging his hand down his face. “Is it real?” He whispers, wondering if perhaps this is some elaborate prank by Bokuto. It does sound more like the type of thing he would say. “How did he even get my number?”

“Ah, it’s real.” Kenma assures him, placing the phone face down on his desk as if the text is embarrassing him. Kuroo follows the motion dazedly. His eyes snap up at Kenma’s computer monitor.

“Oi! Is that the shrimp?” As if the day wasn’t confusing enough; he’d recognise that orange head of hair anywhere.

“Ack!” Hinata’s face rivals Kuroo’s for the reddest in the room. Kuroo jolts upright on the bed, eyes blinking rapidly as he realises it’s not a photo of the shrimp as a desktop background – which would have been a topic for serious discussion he thinks – but a live video call. He opens his mouth, but no words come out.

“Hello Kuroo-senpai!” Hinata screeches, pointedly looking everywhere but at Kuroo. Kuroo blinks slowly, gazing between Hinata and Kenma. Kenma twirls a strand of hair around his pinky finger, examining it intensely. It’s a habit he’s had since they were kids; Kenma fiddles with his hair when he’s feeling guilty.

“You told the shrimp!” There’s a moment where no one says anything and Kuroo thinks this might just be a dream. Surely his real life isn’t this mortifying.

“Not exactly.” Kenma rests his chin on his knees, blinking through the curtains of his hair innocently. “He sort of guessed.”

“Sort of guessed.” Kuroo repeats in wonder. How obvious must he have been for the shrimp to have noticed? Through the screen Hinata is chewing on his thumb nail and almost vibrating in his seat. His eyes are scrunched closed tightly and it reminds Kuroo of how he found him flopped under Kenma comfortably asleep. “Makes sense.” He decides.

“Shouyou gave him your number,” Kenma tells him, voice soft and coaxing, “so it’s real.”

“It’s real?” He can feel himself becoming hysterical again. When he had first received the text he had stared at it for a full five minutes trying to understand. “Captain Kitty Cat!” His mind free-falls as he pictures Sawamura himself saying such a thing to him in person.

Hinata makes a spluttering sound, pencils rolling away from him where he jolted. “Suga-senpai helped him write it!” He yells, fingers curled around the desk edge on the other end. Kuroo decides in that moment that it mustn’t be too bad being so small. Apparently it means you’re the perfect size to fit in everywhere and know everything.

“Sugawara?” His mouth feels dry. The _boyfriend_ sent the text? Is this some kind of test? Or game? Are they teasing him? His stomach churns uncomfortably. Hinata nods enthusiastically.

“Yes, yes! During practice Kageyama sent me a BAM serve! It went _WHOOSH_ right from my hand!” Kenma nods, following Hinata’s gaze to his hand. Kuroo thinks it’s possible this is a dream after all; nothing is making any sense. “It sort of **kapow** ’d off the floor! And I went to get the ball and I heard Sawamura-senpai saying he was in trouble.”

“He has an interview for some university on Saturday,” Kenma informs him, having already sat through the tale once before, “apparently even if he gets the earliest train from Miyagi he’ll miss it.”

“They changed the date last minute!”

“His Tokyo aunt is out of town.”

Kuroo stares at their eager little faces. “And I was his next choice?” He’s a bit confused about how he factored into the equation.

“Shouyou may have mentioned you’d be willing.” Kenma hedges, smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “It would be polite to say thank you.” He points out when Kuroo remains shocked silent.

“Thank you?” He questions, breathless. The shrimp is expecting thanks for hand delivering all of his wet dreams on his doorstep with the knowledge that he is forbidden? His eyes widen. The shrimp _doesn't know_. It’s so obvious now. And Kuroo can’t remember ever mentioning it to Kenma. “Oh.” They think they’re _helping_. The shrimp honestly thinks he’s hand delivering all of his wet dreams on his doorstep with endless possibilities. His heart squeezes in his chest. He looks at Hinata’s happy face and he just can’t tell him.

“Who appointed you as my own personal cupid?” He asks instead, finding he doesn’t have to fake a smile that much when Hinata is beaming at him through the screen. A happy laugh takes over Hinata’s body and Kuroo starts when he sees that Kenma is watching Hinata, giggling at him.

Kenma flicks his gaze back to Kuroo for a second before reaching out tentatively to pick up Kuroo’s phone.

“I know you,” he replies in response to Kuroo’s raised eyebrow, “you’ll never reply without some help.” His fingers move quickly and silently. Kuroo has barely processed what is happening when his phone lands with a soft thud next to him on the bed. He stares down at it. If he doesn’t touch it, it’s almost like it isn’t real. He squints and tips his head slightly to see better.

“Sure thing crow Captain! You’re always welcome to stay with me. Captain,” he pauses, uncertain. “Kenma what does that mean?” Kenma shrugs, playing with a piece of his hair.

“It’s just a cat face.” He explains, giggling again as Hinata’s laughter rolls out of his speakers.

* * * *

They walk to school together the next morning, like they always do. Kenma letting himself into Kuroo’s house beforehand with his own key Kuroo gave him for emergencies. Every day is a small emergency because Kuroo is not a morning person; they’d never make it to school on time if he was left to get up on his own. He grumbles along next to Kenma, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and nibbling on a banana. Kenma thinks it will be more amusing in the long run not to tell him he’s buttoned his shirt up incorrectly again.

“Oi,” Kuroo walks into him gently, using his elbow to knock him. “How long have the shrimp Skype dates been going on for?” Kenma can tell by the tone of his voice that Kuroo feels like he's been kept out of a secret. He shrugs.

“That was the third one.” He had told Hinata to set up an account ages ago, but the bird brain didn’t seem to understand. Kenma had made him one when he was in Tokyo. “It’s more practical than the phone.”

“You talk a lot?” Kuroo sounds vaguely perplexed.

“No. He does his homework and I play a game.” He shrugs again. Hinata had told him it helps him focus to have Kenma around him focused too. It didn’t make much sense to him when it was a phone call, but seeing Hinata bent over in concentration at his desk was different. He enjoyed the way the furrow in Hinata's forehead would iron itself out when he solved a problem. And the way his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth when he was thinking. There weren’t many people Kenma felt comfortable around and it made him feel warm that Hinata not only felt comfortable around him, even when he was quiet, but had actively sought him out for that purpose. Kenma loses his footing ever so slightly when Kuroo unexpectedly flings an arm around his shoulders.

“Keeeenma, you look so cute when you think about shrimpy.”

“Tch.”

“Ney, is that how I look when I think about Sawamura?” He squeezes Kenma closer into his embrace. “All cute and dreamlike.”

“You always look stupid.” Kuroo gasps, making a dramatic show of clutching his chest as if he has been shot. “It’s different anyway; Shouyou’s my friend.” He adds. Kuroo raises an eyebrow but chooses not to comment. Hinata is the first friend he has ever made on his own. So far he is also the first friend who has never told him he is boring, or too shy, or to _just put the game down for five minutes_. He had promised himself that he wouldn’t lose such a friend. They walk in silence for a little while, Kuroo tossing his banana peel to a rubbish bin ten feet away and crowing into the sky when it goes in. Kenma likes it when Kuroo is happy.

“What time does Sawamura-san arrive on Friday?” The bridge of Kuroo’s nose blushes pink and he scratches the back of his head.

“Around seven. I guess he must be leaving practice early or something?” Kenma grins up at him.

“So you have been texting. I was worried you’d chicken out.”

“Oi!” Kuroo ruffles the top of his hair. “ _You’re_ the one who never texts people back!” Kuroo pouts; Kenma rolls his eyes.

“You’re the one who’s a scaredy cat.”

“That’s Captain Scaredy Cat to you!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he placates, “so Captain Scaredy Cat, are you going to take him anywhere?” Kenma knows Kuroo’s mum doesn’t get home from work earlier than nine; usually Kuroo invites himself over for dinner. Maybe Sawamura will come with him this time.

“Don’t worry,” Kuroo grins easily, “I have it all planned out!”

* * * *

Sawamura does skip half of practice, apologising to coach Ukai and the team, who wave him away like he’s being silly. Well, it can’t really be helped. He’s never gotten the train to Tokyo alone before, his dad dropping him off at the station after making him check three times he has everything he needs; his mum making him promise four times over to thank Kuroo’s parents. It’s the first time he ever really thinks about what Kuroo’s parents will be like. What if they’re both super tall with crazy hair?

Kuroo had messaged him earlier saying he’d meet him at the station, which was a bit unnecessary but Sawamura greatly appreciated it. Getting lost in Tokyo would not be the best thing. So when he steps off the train and onto the platform he almost expects to see Kuroo’s dark eyes and playful smirk right there waiting for him. He tries not to feel too disappointed when he isn’t. Kuroo’s probably forgotten what time he said his train would arrive. He digs in his pocket for his phone, thinking over how to text him saying he’s already here without seeming like he’s feeling a bit abandoned when his phone buzzes. Kuroo is calling him. They’ve been texting back and forth most days – Suga way more invested in their small exchanges than he has any right to be really – but they’ve never called one another. He hesitates for a few seconds, takes in a deep breath and hits the answer button.

“Sawamura?”

“Ah yes, Kuroo?” The sound of Kuroo’s voice in his ear is more intimate than he thought it would be, especially given that he’s being shuffled along by the busy crowd.

“I’m waiting downstairs for you,” Kuroo tells him breezily, as if they often talk on the phone. As if they’ve been close friends for years. Some of the nervousness Sawamura’s been feeling about the possibility the whole evening will be spent in awkward silence seeps out of his body. This is Kuroo after all. He smiles, even though Kuroo can’t see it, and listens to him breathing on the other end of the phone for a few seconds. It’s nice.

“I’m coming now.” He tells him. Kuroo takes a sharp intake of breath on the other end.

“Cool!” He wheezes. Sawamura wonders if he’s being manhandled along like he is. “See you!” The line goes dead.

Kuroo is not difficult to spot in a crowd. His hair, his height and the comfortable open aura he emits are usually what draw Sawamura’s attention to him. Sometimes it’s his childish laugh. On the court it’s often his determination. But right now, at the train station, what catches Sawamura’s eye are his long legs casually straddling a purple bike. A purple bike that doesn’t look like it was made for Kuroo at all. There’s a small white basket decorated with ladybugs and butterflies on the front.

“Yo, Captain of the crows!” Kuroo calls out, as if it’s possible for Sawamura to not see him. He walks deliberately slowly, taking a photo on his phone. Suga has taught him many things in life; stealth photography is currently the most useful. Maybe he’ll send him the photo later as a thank you.

“Captain Kitty Cat.” He says softly, his mouth responding automatically. Kuroo’s face glows. He’ll have to start calling him that more often. “Nice bike.” He feels it would be wrong of him not to mention it.

“It’s my neighbour’s,” Kuroo doesn’t seem embarrassed by it in the slightest, “I borrowed it so you could ride my one,” he indicates a plain black bike leant against the wall next to him. Sawamura hadn’t even noticed it. “Unless you want this one?” Something dangerous glints in his eyes. “After all, it is more your size.” Sawamura can feel his cheeks running red.

“Your one is fine,” he tells him, walking over to the black bike. He takes it by the handlebars, walking behind Kuroo as he cackles and peddles slowly outside the station. He’d rather struggle than admit the seat might need to be lowered an inch or two. The air outside is a couple of degrees warmer than in Miyagi, a bit stuffier too. Kuroo waits for him as he swings one leg over the bike, tip-toeing to keep balance. This is fine.

“You ready?” Kuroo’s still smiling. Sawamura doesn’t know if he’s ever seen him this openly happy.

“How did you even ride two bikes here?”

“I rode one, walked home, and then rode the other.” Kuroo tells him bluntly, like that’s a normal thing to do for a person. “I got an old lady to watch my bike whilst I ran back to fetch this one.” The image of Kuroo getting an old lady to keep an eye on his bike so he could run home for his neighbour’s small purple one is too much.

“Do you live far away?” Could they not have just walked?

“Not really, but we’re taking a small detour.” His smile falters ever so slightly. If Sawamura hadn’t been watching him he might have missed it. “Unless you’re tired?”

“It’s seven.” Sawamura informs him. “I think I’ll survive.” Kuroo’s smile returns full force, maybe even a little bit brighter than before.

“C’mon then crow Captain, let’s fly!” He laughs at his own joke, leaving Sawamura to peddle after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think that Hinata is a good little sunshine cherub on Kuroo's shoulder gently guiding him along & Kenma is a pudding head devil on the other shoulder sending him into boss battles completely unprepared. 
> 
> o(=^ x ^=)o


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~hey guysss! my Englishness has been brought to my attention, so just a quick note: when I say "pants" I mean "underwear"~~   
> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Kuroo is not exactly known for being smart. And that, he thinks, is truly wrong, because he is in fact a genius. His mum works late, even later on Fridays, so sitting around at his house just himself and Sawamura would not do. Just the two of them. Alone. No thank you. He might be a nice guy but hours on end in the company of the first guy he’s ever really _like_ liked… _alone_ … He would rapidly transform into less of a nice guy. Not to mention the awkward rejection and explanation that would ensue after he made a fool of himself. _Sorry Kuroo, you’re a great guy_ (of course he is – he would nod along in understanding), _but I’m already basically married to Suga_ , (a better guy, he wouldn’t say, but Kuroo would know that’s what he meant). There's no competition. Even Bokuto is bananas over the guy’s moles. Sawamura probably spends hours exploring Sugawara's body, hunting down each and every one to rain kisses upon. Last night in the shower Kuroo discovered he only has one mole, a tiny one hiding on his inner left thigh. Not big enough to woo anyone.

The only proper course of action therefore was to not get home before his mum. A genius plan! And one he thought of all on his own. He’d asked her to send him a message when she finally arrived, figuring if it got too late then all that would be left for the two of them to do would be to sleep. And how much trouble can he get himself into whilst sleeping?

Not that the idea of Sawamura inside his house – inside his _room_ – wasn’t causing him problems. Kenma had noticed. Even more embarrassingly his mum had noticed. When she came home from work two days ago to a clean kitchen she had been a bit shocked, asking him what homework he was avoiding. Last night when she had found him cleaning his bedroom her eyebrows had risen so far up on her forehead that Kuroo had feared they’d never come back down again. Her interest in meeting Sawamura had sky-rocketed with her eyebrows and ever since she has been referring to him as his “friend”, using her fingers to make quotations in the air and smirking as if she’s in on some joke.

Well more fool her, he thinks trying not to be too bitter, his “friend” already has his own “friend”. What’s unexpected though, is how happy he is regardless. Sawamura might not ever _like_ like him, almost certainly never will, and that’s surprisingly alright. He’s happy that they’re becoming closer as friends. When he saw him ambling down the stairs at the station, looking only a little bit out of place in Tokyo, he was so delighted that he couldn’t stop smiling. He can live with being just this close. He can live with the pain of always having him right here but unable to reach out to touch him because it means he gets to see the expression Sawamura makes as he tries to hide the fact that he is a little bit too short for Kuroo’s bike. He gets to watch the blush that sprinkles over his face when Kuroo teases him, and the worried little frown that dips along his forehead whenever Kuroo stops abruptly or takes a turn slightly too sharply. _Sorry dad_ , he catcalls behind him, _I’m not used to this bike_. He gets to be the sole receiver of Sawamura grumbling at him to _put both hands on the handlebars_ and to _please keep your eyes on the road in front_. He thinks he could be content with collecting such moments forever.

The ride takes them longer than he estimated. Partly because he’s never actually cycled this route before and partly because every five minutes or so one of them ended up putting their foot down to control their laughter and catch their breath. Every time Kuroo takes a peek over his shoulder he spies Sawamura peddling away carefree on his bike and his stomach flips on itself like a pancake. The evening air has brushed Sawamura’s nose a rosy pink and the street lights dance along his jaw, his forearms, his hands, his thighs. Kuroo knows it’s completely irrational, but he’s jealous of his bike anyway.

Sawamura doesn’t work out where they’re headed until they’re more or less on top of it, and when he does Kuroo gets to witness the way his face falls open in shock, his eyes wider than he’s ever seen them before. A small puff of hot air escapes him and curls into the night. His head snaps towards Kuroo and he pouts. _He pouts_ and Kuroo loses his breath too.

“You’re making fun of me again aren’t you?” Kuroo is glad he’s got his handlebars to squeeze his hands around; he’s not sure he’d be able to resist bending down to lick that pout right off his face.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He feigns innocence, smirking at Sawamura as he hops off his borrowed bike and rolls it to a bike rack. He pulls two chains from his basket, passing one to Sawamura. “I just thought it would be educational to show you what the real Tokyo Tower looks like is all.” Sawamura glances down, avoiding making eye contact and fusses with his chain. Kuroo collects the blush that’s nestled around the back of his neck and is glowing on his ears.

* * * *

It takes them forever to get to the top of the tower. Sawamura stops every few feet to take photos, even when the tower is far away. Kuroo finds it endearing – finds himself clutching his phone in his hand too in order to document their adventure. Sawamura grabs him by the elbow and drags him into the One Piece Tower store, pushing Kuroo beside characters and shouting out poses. He finds it embarrassing until he realises Sawamura has basically given him the green light to return the favour. Kuroo is allowed to tell Sawamura to pat Chopper on the head, to get him to lean against Zoro’s back, and tell him to fake a cheer next to Luffy. He gets to do all this and has permission to document it without seeming weird. Sawamura even gets a passing stranger to take one of the both of them, arms around each other’s shoulders posing at the front of the fake boat.

“Is it alright?” The girl asks afterwards, blinking up at them. Kuroo still hasn’t unwrapped himself from around Sawamura’s shoulders so it’s easy for him to peer down at the photo she has just taken. He barks a laugh.

“It’s great! Thank you!” He tells her. “Send me a copy.” He tells Sawamura. The girl nods and walks away slightly dazzled and red in the face. Kuroo can sympathise; ten seconds face to face with Sawamura does that to a person.

On their way out Sawamura spots rows of small keychains, some with legs of meat on them, and a chuckle tumbles out of him.

“Sorry,” he tells Kuroo, smile wide and eyes bright, “but I have to get some of these.” He yanks Kuroo back into the store, carefully counting out a dozen. He slips his fingers through the holes of each metal loop, cradling the charms in his palms as they queue up to pay.

“This will make their whole week,” he tells Kuroo, “they love meat.”

He slides his rucksack off of one shoulder, swinging it around to his front to tuck them in. Kuroo realises a second too late that he’s been caught staring at Sawamura’s bicep, his eyes flicking to Sawamura’s face to find him already watching him, head tilted to the side in an unspoken question.

“Uhm,” Kuroo stammers, wracking his brains for something, _anything_ , to say. “Do you want me to carry that for you? It looks heavy.” Sawamura’s smile unfurls onto his face.

“Thanks, but I’m alright,” he tells him, casually swinging the bag onto his back, smile blooming wider. “I didn’t realise you were such a gentleman.”

“I’m not really.” Kuroo admits, wondering if maybe that’s giving away too much, but Sawamura just chuckles affectionately up at him, shoving him along out of the store.

Kuroo pays for them to go all of the way to the top of the tower. Sawamura tries to protest, but it’s not like it was his idea to come here anyway. The wonder in Sawamura’s eyes when he looks out at the view for the first time causes Kuroo’s heart to trip over itself painfully. He understands why it’s called love sickness at least. No completely sane or healthy person would be jealous of a bike and a view in the same day. Sawamura snaps more photos. A few of Kuroo just standing around, and then he angles the phone away to capture Tokyo.

“Kuroo,” he asks the phone softly, “is this meant to be a date?”

“No!” The reply leaves him too quickly, too loudly, and he’s aware his face is burning. It’s sort of a date, he realises belatedly. Accidentally quite a date-like outing. Sawamura’s probably feeling sorry for him, or guilty for Sugawara, so needed to clarify. Needed to set Kuroo straight. Even if Kuroo’s intention had been to post-pone any alone time it’s ended up like this.

“It’s not, huh?” Sawamura’s voice is even softer and he still hasn’t lowered his phone to look at Kuroo. Kuroo lets out a puff of air, turning away to stare out over Tokyo.

“I thought it would be a nice place to take you as your friend.”

* * * *

By the time they make it to Kuroo’s they’re both worn out, hungry and a little on the smelly side. Sawamura removes his shoes, calls out a greeting, and blinks around curiously. Kuroo can hear his mum pottering towards them so shepherds Sawamura into the bathroom. He gives reels off rapid shower instructions before shutting him in.

“Where’s your “friend” then?” His mum has always possessed the unnatural ability to appear just behind him without him hearing her approach. He spins around to find her leaning mock casually against the wall, one eyebrow raised. She’s shorter than him, skinnier too, but he definitely gets his colouring from her. They have matching eyes and the same unruly black hair; hers looping in loose waves past her shoulders.

“He’s taking a shower.” He tells her as he makes his way to the kitchen, knowing she’ll follow.

“I guessed you guys wouldn’t have eaten, so got us some beef, noodles and vegetables.” She gestures needlessly at the bags on the counter.

“Us?” She smirks.

“Of course I skipped dinner at work. I want to meet your “friend”!”

* * * *

Sawamura only thinks it might have been wise to bring a spare pair of clothes after he’s showered. He had sort of assumed they’d eat dinner, shower and then go to sleep. The possibility that he’d be sat opposite Kuroo’s mum in his pyjamas whilst Kuroo finishes cooking in the kitchen hadn’t ever occurred to him. The possibility that Kuroo might be able to cook hadn’t ever occurred to him.

His mum looks nothing like Kuroo and exactly like him at the same time. She is dainty where he is broad and muscly. She is short and soft where he is tall and sturdy. But the smirk that rests across her face and the way her eyes study him is exactly the same. She’s pretty, he thinks, and looks too young to have a son as old as Kuroo. He had mistakenly assumed she could be his sister when he had first seen her, realising almost instantaneously that he had no idea if Kuroo had siblings or not. She throws her head back in a laugh, waving her hand over the table at him.

“You can stick around.” She tells him happily. “Oi Tetsurou-kun,” she waits until Kuroo pops his head around the door frame, eyebrow raised, “I like your friend.” She places a strange weight on the word ‘friend’. Or maybe Sawamura’s only imagining it because of what happened earlier. _I thought it would be a nice place to take you as your friend._ She turns back to face Sawamura. “It’s just the two of us, no brothers or sisters for lonely Tetsurou-kun to play with.” Her tone of voice is regretful but she’s still smiling. She winks at Sawamura as Kuroo pokes his head around the doorframe again.

“I have Kenma.” He tells her, voice irritated, as if she’s overlooked an important member of their family.

“Right, right,” she nods along, “little brother Kozume-kun, of course. The resemblance is striking, ney?” She directs this question at Sawamura and for a horrified moment he thinks she might actually expect him to answer.

“So, friend-kun,” She leans forward, placing her chin on her linked fingers, elbows resting on the table-top. The gesture is so reminiscent of Kuroo that Sawamura finds himself leaning back, slightly embarrassed. “What’s your name?”

“Sawamura Daichi.”

“Sawamura,” she purrs his name out slowly, as if she’s tasting it, “that’s cute. What’s your family like?” He shrugs.

“Just me and my parents.” Kuroo wanders in with two bowls, placing them down gently in front of them, staring wearily at his mother.

“Ah, so who do you play with? Kozume-kun?” He finds himself laughing at Kuroo’s expression; he likes watching him get teased.

“I have a couple of cousins who live in my street,” he tells her, even though it’s Kuroo who is looking at him with interest, “they’re nearly nine now, twins.”

“Oh so you’re like their big brother! I bet they call you big brother all the time right?” Her whole face lights up. “Tetsurou-kun, does anyone call you big brother?” Kuroo tuts as he stalks back into the kitchen to retrieve the last bowl. He returns, seating himself at the end of the table so he’s next to both of them. His knee bumps Sawamura’s. Kuroo’s mum clasps her hands together in front of her.

“Thanks for the meal, Tetsurou-kun.” Sawamura copies her. She brushes her fingers through Kuroo’s hair proudly. “Prepare to have your socks blown clean off Sawamura-kun,” she tells him, “my boy can cook.”

She isn’t exaggerating, Sawamura discovers. From the first mouthful it’s easily the best beef ramen he’s ever had in his life. It’s so unexpected he finds himself staring at Kuroo’s profile. Kuroo spoons three heaps of chili sauce into his own bowl and slurps noisily on his chopsticks. A noodle flicks some sauce onto his cheek, and for some reason it's truly captivating. Kuroo’s mum coughs, dragging his attention to her.

“He’s good, right Sawamura-kun?” She winks at him again. He stares at his bowl.

“The best.” He tells her honestly, noticing how Kuroo’s face burns red from the chili.

* * * *

His mum disappears as soon as she’s finished eating. Yawning dramatically and claiming she’s tired so will leave the washing up for the two of them. She’s not very sly, Kuroo notes, but finds he doesn’t mind when Sawamura appeared to be having so much fun talking to her. She’d asked what Miyagi is like, ordering Sawamura to let Kuroo visit once in a while to get a taste of the “real world.” She’d asked how they’d met, sighing considerably when Sawamura told her he’s the captain of Karasuno volleyball club. _Of course you’d meet a friend through volleyball_ , she’d moaned at him. She’d asked what Sawamura’s interview is for and nodded along happily, thoroughly impressed when he told her it’s to apply for an advanced summer course and scholarship; he wants to become a coach. _Sawamura-sensai!_ She had trilled and Kuroo had been grateful she was there; he’d never have discovered that on his own. He’d never have been able to make Sawamura laugh like that on his own either.

He shows Sawamura his room after they’ve washed up. Their apartment is a bit small, but it’s big enough for the two of them. He wonders if Sawamura will ask where his dad is, wonders maybe if he would trust Sawamura with the truth or not. He’s never told anyone before, though it’s possible Kenma has worked it out.

“I washed the sheets so you can sleep on the bed,” he tells Sawamura, “my mum will kill me if I put you on the floor.” He adds because he can already see the protest forming on Sawamura’s lips.

“Ah, then, thanks.” He seems hesitant, a little lost, eyes running around the room.

“Well, nest away crow Captain, I’m going to shower.” Great, Kuroo thinks to himself, you lasted all of a minute unaccompanied. Kudos. Truly stellar.

Sawamura is sat cross-legged on his bed, clicking away on his phone when he returns. The sight is so cute, a scene straight out of his dreams, that Kuroo halts in his steps, as if approaching closer would ruin it. _Captain Scaredy Cat_ Kenma’s voice supplies in his head. He throws himself face first on the rolled out futon on the floor, turning to peer up at him.

“I gotta ask,” Sawamura pauses in his clicking to blink down at him, “what’s with all the panda pyjamas?” The pyjama top he had worn before had a sleeping panda on it, Kuroo’s positive. Remembers hating it a certain amount for existing. The panda accompanying Sawamura tonight is lying on its side like the reclining Buddha, grinning away. And it’s wearing sun glasses.

“Oh.” Sawamura’s face flares red. He regards his shirt, pulling it out to look down at, accidentally giving Kuroo a glimpse of his toned stomach and the dimples his hip bones create. “It’s a running joke, sort of a tradition.” He tells him. Kuroo mimics the panda’s pose, propping his head on his hand, to get a better look at Sawamura’s face. The blush is creeping down his neck and Kuroo doesn't want to miss it.

“Go on.” He rolls his wrist forwards, hand rotating in small circles in the air.

“When I was a kid, maybe four or five, my mum bought me a towel. It was a big, fluffy white one that was designed to wrap around you.”

“Like a dressing gown?”

“I guess.” Sawamura nibbles on his lip. Kuroo forces his eyes to focus elsewhere. “One of the corners was designed like a hood, to dry your hair.” He mimes out the action, hands flailing above his head. “The hood had little black ears and big black eyes-”

“Wait,” Kuroo interrupts holding his hand up, “are you telling me that as a small child you routinely donned a towel fashioned to look like a panda?”

“I was trying not to put it quite as bluntly.”

“Oh no, you must have looked like a tiny baby panda!” Kuroo drops his face into his pillow. He’s painfully aware that if Sawamura were to see the expression he’s currently making there’d be no way for him to pretend that he doesn’t like him as more than a friend.

“Right. So my mum has a photo of it on our wall at home.”

“There are photos!” He groans into his pillow, not even bothering to mask his distress. This conversation might actually kill him. It’s a real possibility. Sawamura laughs deeply above him and Kuroo feels a pillow smack the back of his head.

“Shut up,” he grumbles, voice closer than before. “Anyway Suga saw it years ago and now every birthday and new year he gets me panda pyjamas. I don’t really own any other kind anymore.” Kuroo turns to look at him just in time to see him shrug.

“He should start branching out,” he replies, wondering if Sawamura can hear the shake in his voice. “Panda socks maybe, or a panda woollen hat?” He’s almost used to the ache he feels when Sawamura talks about Sugawara in that soft and tender voice. He can almost act like he’s unaffected, supportive even, like a good friend would be. Sawamura narrows his eyes. “Or,” Kuroo can’t stop, the image is too strong and it’s all he can think of as he blurts, “panda pants.”

Sawamura pounces off the edge of the bed, pushing Kuroo onto his back and smooshing Kuroo’s face into the pillow he had previously smacked him with. Kuroo lets out a surprised squeal and then it registers that Sawamura’s whole body is on top of his, shaking with laughter, his warm chuckle brushing against his chest in soft puffs.

“You’re the worst.” Sawamura tells him, lifting the pillow an inch before pressing it back down again. “Panda pants.” He echoes incredulously. He jerks the pillow suddenly away from Kuroo’s face, staring down at him. “Panda pants!”

Kuroo laughs so hard he thinks he feels a rib crack. Sawamura curls onto himself when Kuroo snorts, leaning against Kuroo’s shoulder for support. Whenever they seem to get their laughter under control their eyes meet and they set each other off again. Kuroo watches fascinated as tears leak down Sawamura’s face. Even when he’s crying with laughter he’s still so beautiful. How unfair.

The second Kuroo’s thumb connects with Sawamura’s cheek, moving to catch a tear instinctively, their laughter dies. Sawamura heaves in a shuddering breath, staring at Kuroo as if he’s never seen him before. Kuroo is suddenly, painfully, aware that he’s being straddled by Sawamura; there’s no other way to describe it. Sawamura’s thighs are nestled on and around his body, his knees tucked in close to his ribs, with his shins framing his sides. Where they touch Kuroo feels as if he is burning, bubbling, boiling, and he marvels at how he didn’t notice it before. Sawamura’s hand is still clamped on his shoulder; it feels ablaze, like he’ll be branded with his handprint once they part. It’s wholly unnecessary, he thinks, he won’t need a physical mark to remember this forever. He wonders briefly if this is how his bike felt.

His hand glides around Sawamura’s face, cupping him behind his neck and he blinks at it. _Who gave you permission to do that?_ He thinks, heart leaping when he realises Sawamura is leaning into his touch, leaning down closer to him. It’s the best thing he has ever seen in his life. He opens his mouth to say something, but it’s like his brain has been scrambled. Or maybe his brain is having issues functioning considering all of his blood has concentrated its efforts elsewhere. He squeezes his eyes shut, blocking the sight from himself. It’s the only way.

His fingers find Sawamura’s forgotten pillow, clasping it tightly. He snaps it up fast, smashing it into Sawamura’s face and pushing him up and away. He lands with a thump near Kuroo’s feet. Kuroo sits up, panting heavily. All the hairs on his arms are standing on end. His insides feel like they’re fizzing now too, maybe once he reaches boiling point he’ll start screaming like a kettle. He sure feels like he could. Sawamura splutters for a second, confused and disorientated, as he knocks the pillow away from his face.

“You snooze you lose.” Kuroo tells him, amazed that he has managed to formulate real words. He kicks him playfully, sticking his tongue out. “Now get to bed. Don’t you have to be up early?” Sawamura’s eyes glaze over as he nods. He heaves himself up, dragging the pillow with him. He crawls under Kuroo’s blanket as Kuroo gets up to turn off the light.

Kuroo lies on the floor of his bedroom in the dark, listening to his thumping heart and Sawamura’s steady breathing. If anything, that’s _got_ to be some brownie points for him in his next life. He buries his face deeper into his pillow desperately trying not to think about how unsure Sawamura’s voice had sounded when he’d whispered “goodnight, Captain Kitty Cat”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the dream of my life to go to the One Piece Tower store so of course I had to divert them to the gift shop for a moment. Sorry, not sorry. 
> 
> (Also Daichi is a big softy, I can't imagine he wouldn't get little souvenirs for all his baby birbs).


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> special thanks to 'SexyastheTARDIS' who read over this chapter & helped me iron out the kinks (even though it's like twice the length of all the other chapters). you're the best! °˖ ✧◝(○^ ヮ ^○)◜✧˖ °

Kuroo’s woken up by the steady vibration of his pillow. It buzzes, pauses briefly, buzzes again, pauses briefly, buzzes. He ignores it for as long as he can, thinking in his half-awake daze, that it will sort itself out eventually. When it continues insistently, he decides to fold his pillow more firmly around his head, pushing his face deeper into the material. Suddenly the vibration increases in strength, rattling along his jaw, and he realises entirely too lately that it’s his phone. He must have fallen asleep with it under his pillow. It buzzes again. Kuroo groans loudly, fingers skittering around under his pillow trying to find it. It vibrates three more times before he finally locates it, squinting against the screen’s harsh brightness. He blinks at it rapidly a few times because his phone is telling him that it’s six twenty-eight in the morning and that he has thirty-two new messages, forty-nine missed calls and as many voicemails. All of them are from Bokuto. He jumps when his phone begins vibrating again.

“What do you want?” He hisses angrily. If this is about another weird dream or bizarre midnight snack Bokuto has created that turned out to be _not as bad as it sounds_ Kuroo swears he is going to make him pay.

“OHOHO!” Bokuto’s voice booms into the quiet room. Kuroo jerks violently, his phone leaping out of his hand and crashing onto the floor. He scrambles towards it, legs tangling with his sheet and ends up in a pile next to his futon, a hand span away from his phone as Bokuto fires off progressively louder greetings.

“He better be phoning because someone has died.” Kuroo’s head whips up to find Sawamura staring at his phone with a level of intensity not fit for six twenty-eight in the morning. “Otherwise I’ll kill him.” A shiver skips along Kuroo’s spine, whether or not it’s because of the seriousness of Sawamura’s tone, or because he’s sprawled only inches below Sawamura’s face on the floor, it’s hard to tell. What kind of person looks like that just after waking up? Kuroo only manages to tear his gaze away when he hears Bokuto trail off into a string of screeches reminiscent of nails on a chalkboard.

“Shit, sorry.” He aims at Sawamura, leaping up still tangled in his sheet, taking his phone with him and leaving his room. Bokuto takes it as if the apology were meant for him.

“Yes! You _should_ be sorry! I’ll forgive you because I’m very nice, but _c’mon bro! You’re killing me!_ ”

“Not you, idiot.” He hopes his voice contains sufficient venom, even though he’s still feeling groggy and disorientated. He potters into the kitchen, plopping into a heap under the window, figuring it’s the furthest point in his apartment away from Sawamura and his mum; hopefully Bokuto’s shrill voice won’t carry far enough to disturb them. “Why would I be sorry? Do you know what time it is?”

“Half passed six!” Bokuto is almost manically proud of himself. “I’ve been trying to wake you up for an hour, what’s _wrong_ with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? I was sleeping like a normal person, what the hell is wrong with you?” There’s a brief pause, in which Kuroo thinks that maybe Bokuto is really going to tell him someone has died. If it’s one of his sea monkeys again he’s going to march right on over to his house and flush them all down the toilet. He’d never have bought them for him if he knew he’d get so attached.

“Bro, you don’t sound very thankful.”

“Please explain to me why exactly I should be thankful.”

“I didn’t want you to sleep through Sawamura leaving.” Bokuto informs him, as if it is the most obvious answer in the world. Kuroo can practically see the shoulder shrug he’d be doing if they were talking in person.

“What?” He’s sure he didn’t mention the fact that Sawamura was going to be sleeping at his house to Bokuto. He knew he wasn’t strong-willed enough to deal with Bokuto’s endless flapping over the situation, and had decided to give him a detailed report after the event.

“Akaashi said he’d have to leave at around six to get to his interview on time, and that’s if he could drive, but he can’t drive, right? I _know_ you never get up on time, so thought you might sleep through him leaving, and he’d be way too polite to wake you up because he just _looks_ like the type that would be too polite to wake people up, so he would just sneak out like a quiet little mouse and then you’d wake up alone and probably very sad. I’ve been worrying about it so much I couldn’t sleep. And I did _try_ to wake you up, but bro, you’re so useless. It’s after six and he’s already gone isn’t he? Are you sad and lonely? Don’t worry, just hug your pillow and pretend it’s me. There, there.” Kuroo takes in a deep breath, massaging his forehead with his free hand.

“How much coffee have you had?” There’s an indignant squawk on the other end before Bokuto hoots back passionately.

“Bro, the amount of coffee I may or may not have consumed in order to carry out this mission is not important! What’s important is that _you_ failed us both. And I tried so hard.” Despite himself Kuroo can feel a smile grow on his face. It’s hard to stay mad at Bokuto when he’s so earnest. He ruffles his sheet a bit more to get comfy.

“Consider your mission a success, bro, I’m awake and Sawamura is still here.”

“What? He missed his interview for you? Is it romantic or have you tied him up somewhere? Ohoho kinky… I’m waggling my eyebrows at you. Waggle, waggle.”

“He would have had to have left his house in _Miyagi_ at six in the morning to make his interview, if he could drive.”

“I _know_! Akaashi _told_ me!”

“Bokuto, I do not live in Miyagi.” There’s a pause, Kuroo can almost hear the gears turning in Bokuto’s head as he finally works out his mistake.

“Oh.” He replies, in his quietest voice of this morning, “ _oh!_ ” He repeats somewhat pained. “I _am_ an idiot.” He announces as if he has just received a profound awakening.

“Pretty much, bro.” Kuroo laughs, enjoying the pathetic grumbles that float out of his phone, “but I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

“Really?”

“Really! You’re cute, so it balances out the idiotic part. I’d ruffle your hair if I could, bro.” Bokuto coughs.

“Hair kink.” He mutters, coughing again.

“Shut up,” Kuroo replies, entirely too affectionately. “Now you’ve realised that nobody has to be awake for at least another hour will you go to sleep?”

“Fine, fine, fine.” Kuroo chuckles, going to end the call when Bokuto shouts out in a shrill voice. “No! Wait! Before you go tell me _why_ I had to hear about Sawamura sleeping over from Akaashi! You’re meant to be my number one, bro.”

“Ohohoho, are you jealous?”

“Don’t try to distract me!” Bokuto growls. “If you had told me, this would never have happened. AHA, _you’re_ the idiot.” Kuroo is inclined to agree with him on that point.

“Sorry. I was going to tell you, but-”

“You were too shy, I know I know, I already figured it out. I’m very excellent, y’know. Sometimes I burst out laughing remembering your pink face. People keep giving me strange looks. Still, you could have text me. Hearing from Akaashi! _That’s_ embarrassing!”

“How does Akaashi even know about it?” Kuroo is pretty sure only Kenma and his mum know on his end. So unless Sawamura took it upon himself to start sending out flyers to people across Japan he’s confused as to why Fukurodani’s setter would ever hear about it. It’s even less likely that Hinata would have thought to contact Akaashi with such news.

“Ohoho! Bro! Did you know there’s like a conversation group for the setters?”

“What?” Kuroo furrows his brow, Kenma has never mentioned it. Still, it’s just not possible that Kenma would have shared that information with a group. Bokuto hums thoughtfully.

“That’s what Akaashi said! He said Suga-san created some setter group for tips or something.”

“Suga-san,” Kuroo echoes bemused. Why is it that Sugawara seems to be behind everything these days?

“Right, right! Akaashi said Suga-san mentioned it. Like said he was jealous Sawamura would be in Tokyo for the night or something, probably thought Akaashi would already know because I would have told him after you told me!”

“Wait… so _all_ the setters know now?” How tragic, Kuroo thinks, that there should be a network of people being kept up to date with his unrequited crush. Kenma probably didn’t tell him because he felt sorry for him.

“I guess so.” Bokuto doesn’t seem upset by this in the least. “Hey, hey, hey! We should start a Captains group!”

“Bro, that’s the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah. Sorry… I’ll make some other kind of group though and definitely invite you! I’ll make you joint admin! We can’t let them win!” Kuroo sighs, exasperated. It seems pointless to ask let who win at what because it’s probable that this is a coffee-fuelled idea that Bokuto will never follow through. Like the time he read an article on how an Omani owl was discovered, even though scientists thought it was extinct, and took it upon himself to start learning Arabic in case they ever bumped into each other. _I wouldn’t be able to tell her she was doing such a good job properly otherwise_.

“Well, keep me posted on that. I’m going to crawl back to bed now. Thanks for the thirty-two messages and fifty voicemails, I’ll reply to them later.”

“It wasn’t fifty!”

“…forty-nine, bro.”

“That’s not fifty! And you _should_ have woken up!”

“Right, right, I’m sorry for sleeping. Thanks for your help.”

Bokuto misses Kuroo’s intended sarcasm, chirping back happily “you’re welcome!” before the line goes dead.

“Idiot.” He mutters to himself; he’ll never be able to get back to sleep now anyway. Too scared he’ll actually miss Sawamura leaving for real. His phone buzzes in his hand. Thirty-three unread messages from Bokuto, it tells him. He opens the latest one, figuring the rest have been dealt with anyway.

 **From:** Brokuto  
**Subject:** (๑ʘ∆ʘ๑) NEARLY FORGOT !  
**Message:** u should ttlly make him a packed lunch 4 the train home!!!!! Ur cooking is the BEST!!!!!!!!

 **To:** Brokuto  
**Subject:** I thought I told you  
**Message:** to go to sleep

 **From:** Brokuto  
**Subject:**!! I thought I told YOU !!  
**Message:** MAKE HIM FOOD!!!!!!!!!!!!! (っ˘ڡ˘)っ─∈

Kuroo sighs, reading the message a few more times before deciding what the hell, he’s already up anyway.

* * * *

Five thirty is the sort of time in the morning you only contact people if it’s an emergency. And if those people are professionals capable of responding to said emergency. Considering Kuroo has slept through over half an hour of unrelenting buzzing, Sawamura decides he is definitely not the sort of person to contact during an emergency.

Kuroo is drooling on his pillow, hair flopped over his head, and before Sawamura really has a chance to get annoyed about being woken up at such an ugly time by someone who doesn’t even want him, he muses over how Kuroo’s hair makes so much more sense if he sleeps burrowed head first into his pillow every night. Freefall sleepers are free spirited and social animals and, if Sawamura remembers correctly, hide their nervousness and insecurities deep inside... Or was that people who slept in the foetal position? Sawamura watched a documentary on sleeping positions once, but at six in the morning his recall of it might not be trustworthy.

He alternates between watching the minutes roll by on his phone and staring down at Kuroo’s face pondering how he’s sleeping through the noise. Is Kuroo a heavy sleeper or is Sawamura a light sleeper? Kuroo breathes through his mouth, making small puffing noises. Sawamura thinks there must be something grossly wrong with himself if the sight of an asleep, drooling Kuroo causes his pyjama bottoms to grow noticeably tighter.

At nineteen passed six Kuroo groans, wriggling down more firmly into his pillow. Sawamura debates accidentally-on-purpose knocking his own pillow off the side of the bed and firmly into the back of Kuroo’s head, but Kuroo rouses as the next vibration murmurs through the room.

“What do you want?” Sawamura almost laughs at how obviously not a morning person Kuroo is, his voice croaking and hair ruffled even more bizarrely than usual, but Bokuto’s confident call breaks through the silence like a gun has been fired. Kuroo visibly flails, phone skittering across the room and tangling himself up in his sheets. He’s panicked and uncoordinated, his top bunching two thirds of the way up his body showing off a nice lower back, which does nothing but remind Sawamura of how tight his pyjama bottoms have become. For some reason the fact that it’s Bokuto on the phone irritates Sawamura. The fact that it’s Bokuto that has caused Kuroo to lose his cool so completely bothers him in a way he can’t quite pinpoint.

Bokuto’s calls gradually become louder and louder and Sawamura finds himself speaking without meaning to.

“He better be phoning because someone has died. Otherwise I’ll kill him.” Kuroo stares at him dumbfounded for a second. He probably didn’t know Sawamura was awake. Or maybe he thinks that was a mean thing to say. What if someone is actually dead?

“Shit, sorry.” Kuroo rushes in a whisper, falling over himself in his haste to take his phone and leave the room. Bokuto is screeching more desperately than ever before and Sawamura wants to push him over or shake him, _you already have all of his attention._

Sawamura doesn’t really mean to, doesn’t exactly make the conscious decision to do so, but he finds himself squatting beside the bedroom door, fingers propping it open just a crack. For his own peace of mind he has to make sure no one has actually died, that’s all. Kuroo’s voice floats towards him in tiny fragments, interspersed by long moments of silence and heavy sighing.

“How much coffee have you had exactly?” He hears him ask, speaking to Bokuto as if he is a small child.

The exchange that follows is hissed so quietly that Sawamura can only make out the odd word, something about a mission and possibly Miyagi. He furrows his brow. Maybe he misheard. Kuroo laughs suddenly, his voice louder and lighter than before. Whatever Bokuto has said has clearly made him forget that it’s half six in the morning.

“Pretty much, bro.” He hears him chirp happily, “but I wouldn’t have you any other way.” It’s like he’s listening to Tanaka and Yamamoto have a conversation he ascertains; confusing but harmless. He releases a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in, relaxing back slightly onto his heels, but then –

“Really! You’re cute so it balances out the idiotic part. I’d ruffle your hair if I could, bro.” Sawamura freezes. He swallows. He misses what Kuroo’s chuckling about next because his brain is replaying that last part over and over again. _You’re cute_ , he had said, _I’d ruffle your hair if I could_ , he’d told him.

“Ohohoho, are you jealous?” Sawamura flinches away from the door, dread filling him as he thinks Kuroo has caught him spying red-handed. He hasn’t of course. Is still occupied with Bokuto in another room. The question wasn’t even for Sawamura but it resonates deeply, dropping lowly in his stomach and rippling outwards. He  _is_ jealous.

He shakes his head, retreating slowly back to Kuroo’s bed. He doesn’t want to listen anymore, obviously no one has died, and that’s all he had cared about anyway. He bundles himself under Kuroo’s blanket, breathing in deeply. They do wrestle a lot, he’d always noticed. Bokuto and Kuroo never have a conversation without touching each other in some way either. Sawamura had always interpreted it as friendly, but do friends phone each other at the crack of dawn to call each other cute?

The cocoon Sawamura had rolled himself into is all at once too hot. He kicks the blanket off, lying like a starfish on Kuroo’s bed and studies the ceiling. Because he’s a sadist Sawamura finds himself straining to hear their exchange. He’s met with silence. Well, it’s better if he doesn’t know anyway, he decides, rolling onto his side and waiting for Kuroo to return. There’s no subtle way for him to ask just _how_ close Kuroo and Bokuto are exactly but as it’s not even seven yet perhaps Kuroo won’t find it too personal and invasive; secrets are more easily shared in dark rooms at silly hours.

Kuroo doesn’t return though. Sawamura thinks he hears the opening and closing of cupboards. He watches the minutes tick by on his phone as Kuroo’s gentle humming crawls under the door.

* * * *

Sawamura emerges from Kuroo’s room at seven thirty-seven, not that Kuroo had been clock-watching. He pokes his head into the kitchen, smiling warmly and Kuroo has to do a double take because Sawamura is already dressed and is wearing a suit.

“Woah.” They breathe at the same time. Kuroo’s eyes widen. He didn’t mean to say that out loud, can feel the pinkness creeping up his neck, but it’s not the same as the embarrassment he’s grown accustomed to because Sawamura’s matching him shade for shade. For an awful, wonderful, painful moment he thinks _he feels it too_.

“I mean,” Sawamura looks away first, pulling down on the ends of his sleeves, “nice apron.” His eyes flicker back up at Kuroo, smile playing at the edge of his mouth, “is that your neighbour’s too?”

Kuroo is overwhelmed by how the morning light illuminates Sawamura’s blush just so. Can’t quite believe that he’s the only one who’ll see Sawamura like this, warm and nervous in his kitchen. He can’t think of anything witty to retort because all he wants to say is everything he absolutely cannot say. He chuckles instead, twisting robotically back to the hob and stirring the porridge he’s making for breakfast. He takes a moment to collect himself.

“Nah this is mine.” He doesn’t look away from his task, it’s important to stir porridge after all. “Kenma bought it for me as kind of a joke.”

“Kiss the cook?” Kuroo can’t stop himself from looking at him then. Sawamura is leant against the kitchen counter, head tilted and wearing the most devious smirk Kuroo has seen to date.

“I said it was a joke.” He defends, pointing the ladle at Sawamura. He can’t very well storm up to him and kiss him with that in the middle of them, he reasons, someone would end up impaled. He yanks it back, his brain unhelpfully supplying very different scenarios of impalement. He swallows. “I cut up some fruit, you could take it to the table.” Sawamura nods slowly, pushing off the counter and picking up the various bowls. Kuroo watches him leave, groaning meaningfully at the porridge.

“Anything else I can help with?” Sawamura asks brightly.

“Ah,” Kuroo narrows his eyes, “you’re a morning person.” Finally, he doesn’t say, a fault. Sawamura laughs.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It _is_ a bad thing.” Kuroo assures him.

“I don’t think I’m normally a morning person, I’m just feeling a bit-” He cuts off looking at Kuroo as if he’s undecided on something.

“Nervous?”

“What?”

“About your interview?”

“Oh. Oh, yeah. Really nervous.” Kuroo moves the pan away from the stove and starts scooping generous servings into two bowls.

“Well don’t be,” he tells him confidently, “I know you’ll be great.” He digs in a drawer for two spoons, and looks up at Sawamura. “Just go make yourself comfy, I’ll bring this in.” Sawamura still looks hesitant as he nods and makes his way back to the table in the other room. Kuroo follows him, placing the bowls down before dashing back to the kitchen to grab the pot of tea. Sawamura is seated at the same spot as yesterday and he frowns accusingly up at him.

“I could have carried that.” Kuroo seats himself opposite, waving him away.

“Nah, you’re the guest.” He beams at him. It’s funny, he thinks, how Sawamura has been in his house for less than twelve hours, but has slotted in so naturally. It’s as if he’s been here a hundred times before.

“Thanks Kuroo,” Sawamura tells him in a gentle voice. Kuroo stares at him. That might be the first time he’s ever called him Kuroo. He must be more nervous than he realised. “For everything.” Kuroo grunts, picking up a spoon and digging into his porridge abruptly.

“Thank me after you get the placement.” He tells him, grabbing a grape to shove into his mouth too before adding, “and eat your food before it’s cold.”

“Yeah,” Sawamura laughs, kicking him in the shin under the table, “I will do.”

They eat mostly in silence, but Kuroo doesn’t find it awkward or weird. After all most of his time is spent in silence with Kenma. Every so often they both reach into a bowl to grab a piece of fruit at the same time, fingers brushing. Kuroo collects the sprinkle of pink that dusts across Sawamura’s face every time it happens. He watches as he sips at his tea, Adam’s apple bobbing with every mouthful, and if Sawamura notices that he’s been timing his hands purposely the last four times he doesn’t mention it.

Kuroo’s mum pads into the room, yawning and making a poor attempt at combing her hair down with her fingers. She stalls in her steps when she sees the two of them, eyes widening as she marches up to them at a much quicker pace.

“Sawamura-kun,” she whispers in awe, “please move in with us.”

“Mum!” Kuroo whacks her arm with the back of his hand as Sawamura looks at her perplexed. She ignores Kuroo completely.

“What did you do?” She demands, still staring at Sawamura like he holds some secret power. “Never in all his life has Tetsurou-kun risen before eight.” She brushes a fake tear away from her eye. “I was not expecting this. Where’s my phone? I need to document this moment.” She doesn’t wait for a reply before scurrying back into her room.

“Sorry.” Kuroo drops his head into his hands.

“I didn’t even do anything,” Sawamura replies dejectedly, “Bokuto was the one who woke you up.” Kuroo peaks at him from between his fingers. He opens his mouth, but before he can respond a bright flash assaults them both.

“Beautiful. Magnificent. Truly amazing stuff.” His mum comments to her phone as she makes her way into the kitchen. “I’m going to show everyone at work.” They stare at the kitchen doorframe dumbfounded for a second. She pokes back in the room, a small box in her hands. “Testurou-kun, is this for me?”  
  
“No, I left you porridge in the pot.” He tells her, affecting his best blank stare. He’s seen Kenma do it thousands of times; so long as he doesn‘t look at Sawamura he thinks he’ll be able to pull this off. “That’s lunch I made for him.” Holding his mum’s gaze firmly, he indicates Sawamura with a nod of his head.

“Oh?” She smiles radiantly, walking over to drop the box off at the table. “Here you go Sawamura-kun.” She waltzes back into the kitchen. Kuroo allows himself to look at Sawamura only after he hears her busying herself in the kitchen. Sawamura’s face is void of colour. In fact, Kuroo worries, he looks kind of like he wants to be sick.

“You made me lunch?” Sawamura utters, leaning over to clutch the box. His fingers pry open the lid and Kuroo watches in fascination as all the colour seems to rush back into his face at once. “Oh.”

“The train is long, right? You’ll get hungry.” Sawamura looks at him again like he’s undecided, or unsure, as though he’s sorting through a dilemma and perhaps the answers are written across Kuroo’s face. Kuroo squirms in his seat a bit. “It was Bokuto’s idea anyway.” Maybe he shouldn’t have listened to him after all.

“Ah. Bokuto.” Sawamura nods, looking away from Kuroo to press the lid back onto the lunch box. Kuroo gets the feeling he’s said something wrong, but doesn’t know what exactly.

“Yeah. This morning when he phoned.” He elaborates in case Sawamura was under the impression he and Bokuto have been holding how-to-treat-crow-Captain conferences. Sawamura probably feels uncomfortable after discovering they’ve been talking about him. He feels awkward about the setter group chat after all. “After I mentioned you were staying here, he suggested it.” Sort of a lie, but Bokuto suggesting the packed lunch is truthful and he doesn’t want Sawamura to feel uncomfortable. Sawamura’s eyes roam over Kuroo’s face.

“You guys talk often then?” Kuroo chews his lip nervously. So Sawamura is feeling awkward after all.

“I guess? Couple of times a week maybe.” He shrugs. “Sometimes more if we have time. Usually about stupid stuff, not everyone at Fukurodani shares Bokuto’s enthusiasm over the little things.” Not everyone at Nekoma indulges his scheming side quite like Bokuto does, Kuroo thinks. It’s why they fell into friendship so easily; they allow each other to become the unrestrained versions of themselves. Sawamura‘s eyebrows knot together.

“So… he’s your friend?” Kuroo thinks that’s pretty obvious, but something about the seriousness of Sawamura’s voice makes him feel like he’s missing the point.

“Uhm. Yeah? He’s a cool guy really.” He doesn’t give off great first impressions all the time so maybe Sawamura doesn’t like him. That idea upsets Kuroo a little bit. “He’s funny and surprisingly thoughtful.” He flickers his gaze down to the lunch box Sawamura’s cradling. Bokuto had stayed up all night worrying about his friend and had thought of a foodless Sawamura on his train home alone. Kuroo smiles brightly across the table, trying to convey how nice a guy Bokuto is.

“Are you guys dating?” The silence after Sawamura speaks is excruciating. It stretches on and on as Sawamura studies Kuroo with a blank expression that rivals one of Kenma’s. Kuroo blinks. He leans back in his chair. He blinks again. He almost wants to ask Sawamura to repeat the question just so he can be certain he heard it correctly. He and Bokuto… _dating_?

“Pfft!” Kuroo honestly tries to hold his laughter in, pressing his hands over his mouth firmly, but it’s no use. Sawamura cocks his head at an angle and watches Kuroo with such a sincere expression; it makes Kuroo feel even more hysterical. He snorts around his hands before falling forwards and leaning his head on top of the table. He takes his time controlling himself, his giggles petering out into the room.

Kuroo shifts his head up, chin resting on the table. Sawamura still looks completely serious, despite the fact that the tips of his ears have turned pink. He’s surprisingly brave, Kuroo thinks, to ask something like that. His heart swells.

“Nah,” he props his chin up with one hand, elbow leaning on the table. He isn’t as brave as Sawamura and can’t maintain eye contact. “We’re not dating.”

“Cool.” Kuroo’s eyes snap back to Sawamura’s face. The pink from his ears has started to leech onto his cheeks and down his neck; a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Kuroo desperately wants to ask why he finds that cool _exactly_. If Sawamura can be bold this early in the morning, maybe he can too. He opens his mouth just as a loud, blaring noise erupts from his room.

“Ah,” Sawamura’s face collapses in on itself, “that’s my reminder. I have to leave in ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes.” Kuroo repeats meekly. They look at each other across the table. Realisation dawns on them in the same moment. Sawamura jumps up, dashing to the bathroom to brush his teeth as Kuroo rapidly clears the table, piling everything haphazardly into the sink and throwing a promise to do the washing when he gets back over his shoulder. His mum is perched on a counter, her cheeks stuffed full like a hamster’s. She looks like she wants to say something, but her full mouth prevents her. Kuroo darts away quickly, grabbing the packed lunch off of the table and bringing it into his room where Sawamura is shuffling things into his rucksack. He looks up at him when he enters and Kuroo feels a pang of something unidentifiable when he realises maybe this is the last time Sawamura will ever be in his room.

“Here,” Sawamura holds up a plastic bag, offering it to Kuroo at the same time as Kuroo offers him the lunch box. Sawamura laughs, shaking his head and takes the lunch box before folding Kuroo’s hand around the handles of the plastic bag. “There’s a gift in there from Hinata to Kenma,” he tells him as he unzips his rucksack to place his lunch inside, “and a t-shirt from Noya and Tanaka to Yamamoto”, he turns around to face him, slinking his arms through the holes and shuffling his bag onto his back, “and some traditional foods from Miyagi for you and your mum. From my parents, as a thank you.” Kuroo peers into the bag.

“They didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, you didn’t have to look after me, but you did.” It was nothing, he goes to say, but Sawamura has already stepped passed him and is in the kitchen thanking his mum. Morning people are hard to keep up with. He places the plastic bag on his bed and goes out to find Sawamura in the hall sliding his shoes on.

“I’ll walk you downstairs.” He tells him, stepping into his own shoes and opening the door. He doesn’t wait for Sawamura to say anything, leading the way past his neighbour’s doors and down the stairs to the ground floor. It wouldn’t have been difficult for Sawamura to make the journey alone, but Kuroo didn’t really want his mum to be within earshot when he fumbled his way through a goodbye. He clicks the buzzer open for the main door, holding it open with one arm to let Sawamura step through. His shoulder brushes Kuroo across the chest and it’s then that it registers that he’s actually going. He’s _leaving_. Sawamura has paused at the bottom of the step, waiting patiently for Kuroo to say something, or at least acknowledge his parting.

“Good luck, crow Captain.” Maybe it’s because Sawamura is a step lower than usual, and thus a step shorter than Kuroo than usual, so almost as short as Kenma, but as he speaks his hand moves automatically up to ruffle Sawamura’s hair. His fingers run through his hair easily, it’s softer than it looks; he only notices what he’s doing when Sawamura sucks in a sharp breath and blooms red at record-breaking speed.

“Thanks, Captain Kitty Cat.” He sighs, stepping back a few paces and leaving Kuroo’s hand suspended in mid-air. Kuroo waves it good naturedly, as if he wasn’t caught off guard by the sudden retreat. Sawamura nods, smiles, and turns to walk away. He takes another few steps and looks back at Kuroo. Kuroo suddenly thinks maybe it’s a bit weird for him to be lingering around watching him leaving. He begins to shrink back inside when he catches the look on Sawamura’s face. It’s the look he gets when he’s on court, steady and determined, when he’s being the Captain of the crows; it’s as if someone has lit a fire inside him and the flames dance in his eyes.

Sawamura makes it back to the bottom of the step in half as many strides as it took him to get away. He stares up at Kuroo defiant. He pushes himself up on his tip-toes, grabbing the front of Kuroo’s pyjama top and dragging him down firmly. Kuroo doesn’t have time to even close his eyes as Sawamura’s mouth meets his.

It’s softer and warmer than he’s imagined; more forceful too as in Kuroo’s imagination it’s never once been Sawamura to initiate a kiss. Kuroo is, and has always been, the one with stupid one-sided feelings. Sawamura is the one who is totally uninterested. Sawamura is the one with a boyfriend. Sawamura is the one currently bringing his other hand up to clutch around the back of Kuroo’s neck, fingers brushing up to grab on tightly to the hairs at his nape. Kuroo puts his hands onto Sawamura’s chest, intending to push him away, but Sawamura shudders at the contact, opening his mouth to run his tongue slowly along Kuroo’s bottom lip. It’s hot and wet and Kuroo crumbles all at once. His mouth opens, tongue rushing out to meet Sawamura’s own. His palms map their way over Sawamura’s shoulders, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away, committing to memory their shape and size. He dips his tongue into Sawamura’s mouth, running it along the roof of his mouth, and drinks down the little gasp that bubbles out of him unexpectedly.

They break away at the same time, Kuroo gulping in huge mouthfuls of air as Sawamura tucks himself under Kuroo’s chin and catches his breath gently.

“Shit,” Kuroo mutters, “shit, shit, shit.” It’s a bit late of him to fret over how they’re outside and anyone could have seen, but he chooses to anyway; it hurts less than thinking about the boyfriend. Sawamura giggles, breath caressing Kuroo’s chest, and releases his grip on his neck. He smooths the creases out of his top where he’d been fisting it, patting them along with gentle fingers. Without looking up he leans down and plants a light kiss over Kuroo’s thundering heart.

He abandons him quicker than Kuroo was expecting him to, his warmth deserting him all at once. From the pavement he glances back, smile dazzling. “Until next time then.” He mock salutes. Kuroo stares after him until he’s long gone. Watches the empty street until he feels like he can walk without toppling over. As he turns around to go back upstairs he starts. Two thirds of the way down the staircase, leaning with her elbow against the banister, stands his mum. She sips out of a cup dramatically, one eyebrow raised. Kuroo is almost certain there isn’t even any tea in it.

“Ah-huh,” she hums, “tell me again how he’s just your friend.” She doesn’t say anything else, slurping around the edge of her cup as he slinks passed her on the stairs. It’s only when he’s almost escaped, almost out of ear shot, almost safe from any further mortification that she mumbles. “Really though, Tetsurou-kun, kiss the cook.” Kuroo gapes down at himself; he never did take off his apron.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a.k.a. filler chapter  
> a.k.a. angst for Kuroo  
> a.k.a. I noticed a few of you only discovered this story because you were looking for hinaken/kenhina so this one's for you!  
> a.k.a. take notes Kuroo, you useless child
> 
> (´ヮ`)

“I thought you were already up.” Kenma huffs, shuffling into Kuroo’s room, eyes narrowed suspiciously. Kuroo remains where he is, curled in his bed, munching on a mochi ball. His sheets and pillow smell of Sawamura; he likes and hates this fact in equal measure.

“Why would you think that?” Kuroo doesn’t check the time, but it’s unlikely it’s after ten. “It’s Saturday.” He reminds Kenma in case he’s under the illusion Kuroo has somewhere else he’s supposed to be. Kenma hums thoughtfully as he pushes the door to. He crosses over to Kuroo’s bed, settling himself on the edge. He flashes his phone screen at Kuroo. The picture his mum took this morning of himself and Sawamura at the table looks back at him. He turns away. “Oh.”

“It’s okay, you’ll see him again in a few days.” Kenma slides his phone into the front pouch of his jumper. If Kuroo didn’t know him so well he’d never pick up on the strain in his voice; he’s trying his hardest to be comforting but it just doesn’t come naturally to him. Kuroo swats him with his arm, causing him to topple backwards over Kuroo’s legs, landing ungracefully on his back.

“Stop being so adorable.” Kuroo snaps at him, kicking a leg behind himself to jostle Kenma some more. Kenma grumbles out of the side of his mouth once or twice, wriggling until his feet are placed firmly on Kuroo’s back, one hand bracing around his neck and the other holding onto his ear, twisting it sharply until he yelps in pain.

“Stop being so annoying.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Kuroo burrows further into the mattress, rubbing his ear when Kenma lets go with a satisfied hum emitting from the back of his throat.

“What’s that weird smell anyway?” Kenma curls closer, slotting his head over the top of Kuroo’s to stare at the small bundle of tiny card boxes and a paper bag that decorate Kuroo’s side of the bed.

“It’s not weird,” Kuroo defends with a small whine, “that’s Sawamura’s smell.” Kenma wrinkles his nose.

“No. What are you eating?”

“Oh. Snacks from Miyagi.” Kuroo picks up the paper bag and holds it up to Kenma. “These are kinda sweet, you’ll like them.” Kenma takes it. Inside are a couple dozen small white balls that resemble dough. He picks one out. It’s squidgy. Kuroo watches out of the side of his eye as Kenma chews on it.

“Mhm, it’s good.” He agrees, taking out another and leaving the bag in arms reach in case he wants more.

“Right!” Kuroo perks up slightly; feeding people has always pleased him. “The smell is probably this though.” He grabs hold of the largest card box, flicking it open and holding it up to Kenma. Inside are thin strips of some kind of meat; the sauce is indeed the cause of the smell. “I don’t know if you’ll like it.” Kuroo brushes his hand through the remaining pile, plucking a sticker off the surface of his bed to show to Kenma.

“Cow’s tongue.” Kenma reads off. He looks at the strips inside the box. Years of being Kuroo’s go-to taste tester means he’ll try pretty much anything, even if he doesn’t think he’ll like it. He plucks a strip between his fingers. Mindful of the sauce he holds his other hand underneath it, following it all the way until the strip is safely in his mouth. “It’s not bad.” He decides after a moment, licking his fingertips.

“I think I like it.” Kuroo has always been more of a meat eater. “But these are my favourite.” The remaining three boxes each hold four mochi balls. From what Kenma can see, each box is a different flavour. Kuroo resumes nibbling on the green one he’d been eating when Kenma had arrived.

“Maybe Sawamura-san knew and that’s why there are so many of them.” Kenma teases as he helps himself to a second squidgy ball. He wonders if Sawamura handmade these. If he did he could teach Kuroo and then Kenma would forever have a supply. He rolls another ball between his fingers. Better still, perhaps Shouyou would know and be able to teach him. He fishes out his phone from his front pouch and takes a photo to send to him.

“Ah,” Kuroo brightens when he hears Hinata’s personalised chime coming from Kenma’s phone. “That reminds me!” He rolls over almost onto his front, mindful of the snack pile, and reaches down the side of his bed for the plastic bag from Sawamura. He grabs the small parcel inside it that has Kenma’s name scrawled across the top in messy handwriting. “Special delivery from the shrimp.”

Kenma shifts behind him, shuffling himself into sitting up with his legs tucked underneath him. Kuroo rolls back so his head is resting on Kenma’s knee as he hands it over. He’s curious about what’s inside the parcel almost as much as he’s curious as to what kind of face Kenma will make. For a moment he considers taking a photo to send to Hinata, but then remembers he has buried his phone at the back of his sock drawer, resolutely refusing to open any of Bokuto’s messages or the one from Sawamura.

Kenma turns the parcel over in his hands a couple of times, smoothing down the brown paper fondly. He picks at a corner of tape slowly, peeling it back with a soft tug; he has never been the kind of person to tear into a present. Usually his lack of urgency bothers Kuroo who, more often than not, demands Kenma to open it quicker and messes with his hair until he complies. Today however, Kuroo seems to be completely content to watch, staring up at his friend’s face with interest.

“Hah,” the giggle leaves Kenma in a puff, half-aborted as he stares at the open parcel in his hands. He doesn’t manage to hide the smile that remains on his face or the sudden pink tint that blooms across his nose. Kuroo grins.

“Show me, I wanna see!” He whines, crawling up and craning his head as Kenma attempts to fold the paper back around, swatting his hands away and curling into himself protectively. Kuroo’s mouth slides up into an easy leer. “Oh, it’s that kind of present is it?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. Kenma’s face burns a deeper shade as he lets out a yelp of embarrassment, throwing his leg out and kicking Kuroo firmly in the stomach. Kuroo grabs onto his leg, pulling himself closer to Kenma and breathes in dangerously. “If I’d fallen and crushed my precious mochi balls, you would have been in grave danger.” He tells him, only half-joking. Kenma slaps his hands away from his leg.

“You would have deserved it.” He holds up the front of his parcel, brandishing it in Kuroo’s face. “That’s my name, not yours.” Kuroo smiles slyly, lunging at the parcel once more, but Kenma has always been able to read him better than anyone else. His fingers grasp onto nothing but air, Kenma’s hands shoving the parcel into his front pouch more aggressively than Kuroo thinks is necessary.

“Fine, fine.” Kuroo grumbles, blowing his hair away from his eyes in order to hit Kenma with a full force pout. They rarely, if ever, work on Kenma but Kuroo’s not the type to give up easily. “Tell me when you’re ready to.” Kenma nods once sharply. He’s aware Kuroo will find out eventually, but so long as it’s on his own terms he can prepare himself for any and all teasing. He scrambles onto his knees, shuffling passed Kuroo without removing his hands from inside his pouch. It’s a little awkward, but he’s learnt to never let his guard down when Kuroo wants something.

“I’ll drop this off, then we should leave.”

“Why?” Kuroo’s pout drops into a small frown. He clearly had plans for a pity party for one.

“We have practice today.” Kenma reminds him gently over his shoulder, already half way out of the door.

“Ah!” Groans Kuroo, flopping back down onto his pillow. “I’d forgotten!” Sometimes coach Nekomata schedules them a time slot in the gym for a weekend practice. He claims to do so as a punishment when the team hasn’t behaved properly during the week, but everyone knows he just likes to sneak in extra practices when he can. “Tell them I’m sick.”

“You’re the Captain.”

“Tell them I died.” He responds cheerily.

“Meet me downstairs in two minutes.” Kenma is gone before Kuroo can complain any further. He groans again, knowing he’s lost this battle, and drags himself out of his bed. He fumbles around quickly, shuffling out of his pyjamas and into some sweat pants and a t-shirt. As he’s grabbing his kit he notices the bag from Sawamura. Well, at least this way Yamamoto can get his gift. And he has a half-reasonable excuse for neglecting his text messages.

* * * *

Surprisingly practice helps. A lot. Kuroo is feeling focused and energised. Or at least acting like he is. The harder he throws himself into the game the farther away yesterday and this morning feel. The faster he runs, the higher he jumps, the louder he laughs, the less he can dwell on the confusing feelings whirling around within him. One of the things he really can’t stand is being confused. Probably the only reason he does so well at school is because the easiest way to combat confusion is to seek answers, and once he has answers tests are easy.

This situation is not easy; he has a lot of questions and no idea who he can ask them to. Is it normal to kiss someone if you already have a boyfriend? Is it normal to kiss someone if you know they already have a boyfriend? Is it normal to kiss someone and for your heart to leap straight into your throat and be stuck there ever since?

Shaking his head helps banish the memory of Sawamura’s fingers tugging at his hair, of the warmth of their tongues sliding against each other, of that small peck he had laid across his heart. Is it normal for someone to do that? Maybe in Miyagi it’s a completely usual custom for people to kiss each other goodbye. Maybe in Miyagi it’s considered a polite way to show your gratitude. If not, then what? Has he become the other man? Sawamura’s Tokyo lover? His dirty city boy secret?

During break Kuroo decides to practice his serves. He’s not really a weak server, but serving doesn’t need anyone else; he can smack the ball over the net a hundred times on his own. Every time his hand connects, palming the ball into the air with a loud crack, he imagines it’s his own face. He doesn’t really think the situation is entirely his fault, Sawamura kissed him first after all, and he doesn’t want to beat himself up for what could potentially have been an innocent kiss. Don’t the French kiss each other as a farewell? Maybe Sawamura’s half-French. He’s never asked him so it’s within the realm of possibilities he supposes.

What he does want to beat himself up over is the wicked curling in the pit of his stomach that keeps leeching out into the rest of him. Because there’s an awful part of him that’s boundlessly, endlessly, relentlessly ecstatic. It’s been parading around sending triumphant tremors throughout his body since Sawamura pushed himself up onto his tip-toes. Is it normal for him to feel as if there are marching bands under his skin? Is it normal for him to feel, under the layers of all this confusion, deliriously happy? Guilt burns quickly on the tail of it, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. If he were Sugawara would he want to know? He doesn’t have his number but it wouldn’t be difficult or entirely suspicious for him to get it from the shrimp. But if he were Sugawara he’d want to be told in person. You can’t punch someone in the face over the phone.

Practice goes by in a blur. Preoccupied with trying to riddle out the situation at the same time as pretending it doesn’t exist, it only registers to Kuroo that it’s time to go home when Yaku is waving goodbye from the gym door and Kai is collecting stray balls dutifully, telling him in a soft voice not to push himself too hard. Outside the sky is a shade darker and he ends up almost missing Yamamoto entirely, dragging him back from the school gates towards the changing rooms to hand him the t-shirt. It’s not wrapped up cutely like Kenma’s parcel had been and he likes to imagine Tanaka and Nishinoya losing a battle with paper and tape. It’s the thought that counts. Yamamoto rolls it open, holding it up in front of himself as Kuroo gets changed. The t-shirt is Nekoma red and completely plain on the front. He flips it over and smiles broadly. In bold black lettering sits one word. Kuroo raises an eyebrow.

“Tricycle?”

“They were a bicycle before me.” Yamamoto announces proudly, as if Kuroo is slow on the uptake.

“So who’s the front wheel?”

“Noya-san.” Yamamoto shrugs off his current t-shirt in favour of his new one.

“Noya is the smallest.” Kuroo points out. “The front wheel is the biggest.” Yamamoto looks at him with a blank expression.

“But Noya-san is the coolest.”

“Plus you and Tanaka are equally stupid.”

“Right!” Yamamoto grins happily, the t-shirt hanging a little lopsidedly; they’d overestimated his size a bit. “We’re both wing spikers too.” Kuroo wants to point out that if they’re going by volleyball positions then there’s no way a libero would be on the front line, but Yamamoto pushes his phone into his hand. “Take a photo for me!” He throws one leg up on the bench with his back to Kuroo and spreads his arms over his head, thumbs pointing downwards to the word splayed across his back. He smiles broadly over his shoulder; all his teeth are showing. For once Kuroo does as he’s told, taking several photos as Yamamoto shifts into a variety of increasingly bizarre poses that Kuroo hopes make some sense to the other two wheels.

“What?” Kuroo eyes Yamamoto out of the corner of his eye skeptically as he closes the main doors behind them and fiddles with the padlock. Yamamoto has been nibbling his lip and hopping about on his toes for the last couple of minutes.

“Sawamura gave you the shirt right?” The chain slips through Kuroo’s fingers and he uses the time it takes to bend down and retrieve it to school his face.

“Right.”

“I knew he was spending the night. Just wanted to see if you’d lie.”

“You knew?” Kuroo watches Yamamoto’s face as he fidgets with the strap of his rucksack.  
  
“Well yeah. Sawamura told Azumane who told Noya-san who told me and Tanaka, but then Sawamura told the whole team anyway as he had to leave practice early.” Figures there would be another train of people receiving information about his life.

“Right.” Kuroo wonders if he told Yamamoto about the kiss would the information flow backwards in the same way. That would be the worst way for Sugawara to find out. Yamamoto bounces from toe to toe, huffing a breath that sounds like it’s come from somewhere deep in his soul.

“So… I guess… What I wanna know is why _you_ didn’t tell _us_?”

“Huh?” Kuroo wants to dig his knuckles into his stupid hair-cut. He has the awful desire to pin Yamamoto into a headlock and maybe kick him in the back of the knee because this whole mess is bad enough without his junior thinking he has some kind of right to his private life. He frowns as menacingly as he can. Yamamoto stops squirming and for a second Kuroo thinks he’s got him but then he squares his shoulders and puffs his chest and even though there’s over ten centimetres difference in their height it’s Yamamoto that manages to make Kuroo feel small.

“Just. If you don’t like him in that way you should tell him.”

“What?” The fight leaves Kuroo in a rush of air, Yamamoto’s bluntness winding him more than any punch in the gut would have.

“He seems pretty into you.” Kuroo wants to be sick, can feel his face burning and ends up latching onto the padlock for some support. There has never been a better time in his life for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Yamamoto can be pretty dense at times so it’s no surprise that he carries on talking, oblivious to his Captain’s mental state. “ _Smitten for the kitten_ is what Tanaka said, so it’s kinda mean of you to let him hope if you’re not into him.”

“Wha-? _What?_ ” Kuroo wishes he’d stayed at home at his pity party for one and let Kenma tell them all he’d died; nothing could have prepared him for a talk down from Yamamoto of all people. Maybe this is a dream. It certainly feels like a nightmare.

“Like he told his whole team he was spending the night with you. He told his _coach_.” At last Yamamoto seems to take note of Kuroo’s sweaty forehead and pink face, his bravado dropping back into nervousness. “I mean, if you’re worried that we’d judge you or something, then don’t. You can trust us off the court too.” He brings a hand up and rests it on Kuroo’s shoulder. Kuroo stares at him with wide eyes. He’s never seen this side to Yamamoto before.

“But he’s already dating someone, _isn’t he_?” Kuroo hates how weak his voice sounds, hates the hope that he’s been trying to tamper down all day and how Yamamoto has managed to kick it into life with just a handful of words. He hates how he’s known for being strong and solid, for never showing any weakness, for prodding at other's weaknesses even, but now finds himself vulnerable and small in front of someone he never wanted to let see him fall. Yamamoto stares at him as if he’s suddenly started speaking a foreign language.

“Ah no.” His fingers twitch on Kuroo’s shoulder, his other hand clenching by his side. “Not that I know of, I could ask-”

“No.” Kuroo shakes his head rapidly. He really doesn’t need another conga line of Yamamoto to Tanaka to Nishinoya to Azumane to Sawamura and back again. “I’ll ask him.” Yamamoto nods proudly up at him before clapping him on the back as if to signal the end of their conversation. They walk together towards the school gates, finding Kenma patiently leant against the wall on the outside as he taps away on his Gameboy.

“Anyway,” Yamamoto says just before they part ways further down the road, “I don’t think you’d kiss someone if you were already dating someone else.” He shrugs, bidding Kenma farewell; tossing a _see you guys Monday_ over his shoulder and leaves them standing in silence on the curb.

“You kissed?” Kenma continues to walk with Kuroo following helplessly at his side. He can’t decide if Yamamoto finding this out through a Sawamura-chain or somehow through his mum is less mortifying.

“Just once. A little.”

“Mhm, I thought something had happened.” His mouth curls upwards. “You were distracted again. But in a different way.”

“Sorry.” Kuroo kicks the ground. His life is starting to feel like the all humiliation network.

“Do you really think Sawamura-san is dating someone else?”

“Uhm, well Bokuto mentioned that-”

“Bokuto told you last week that you can use a microwave to charge a phone.” Kuroo briefly thinks about Bokuto’s honest mistake this morning. “He’s not a reliable source of information.” Kenma asserts, nudging Kuroo gently in the side with his elbow.

“I’m going to ask him.” Kuroo defends in a mumble, the conviction he felt earlier with Yamamoto slipping away already.

“Bokuto?”

“No. I’m going to ask Sawamura.”

“Good.” Kenma stops walking, causing Kuroo to lift his gaze from his shoes, noticing they’d already made it back home. “Are you coming over for dinner?” Kuroo shakes his head. He’s feeling frayed on all edges; all he really wants to do is have a shower and go to bed. “Alright.” Kenma nods as if he expected as much. “Feel better. And see you Monday.”

“Monday?”

“I’m busy tomorrow.”

“You’re busy? Doing what?” There are no new game releases tomorrow, and Kuroo gets dragged along to those anyway.

“I’m meeting up with Shouyou on Skype.” Kenma slides himself around his gate before Kuroo can swat at his hair.

“All day?”

“Mhm, I don’t know. Maybe.” Kenma shrugs as if it’s unimportant. “He’s going to try to teach me how to do something.”

“Ohoho?” Kuroo raises an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. He’s a little bit surprised by this development and wonders if it was Kenma or the shrimp who made the first move.

“I’m going now before you get even more annoying.” Kenma frowns, shuffling his hair to hide more of his face, but it’s too late; Kuroo has already seen the blush working its way onto his face.

Later, after he’s showered and curled up in bed, Kuroo fishes his phone from the back of his sock drawer. He scrolls past all of Bokuto’s messages to get to Sawamura’s.

 **From:** Crow Captain  
**Subject:** Thanks again.  
**Message:** Still shocked you’re so well house trained. See you next week.

Attached is a picture of Sawamura on his train home, stuffing his face with Kuroo’s packed lunch. He’s loosened his tie, undone the top button of his shirt and rolled the sleeves up around his elbows in an attempt to combat the stuffy train. The shot is a bit blurred, presumably where Sawamura was trying to juggle taking a selfie with shovelling food in his mouth and the angle is slightly crooked. The sun is streaming in from the train window causing a warm glow that almost blots out a third of the picture; one of Sawamura’s eyes is squeezed closed against it. Naturally it’s Kuroo’s new favourite photo.

His thumbs type out a message, delete it, type it out again. What’s the best way to ask someone you’ve swapped saliva with if they’re single or not? He hums, staring at the photo again. It doesn’t help that his bed still smells of Sawamura, the want he feels for him making itself more than apparent between his legs. He types and deletes again and again. _Do you have a boyfriend? Are you dating Sugawara? Are you single? Someone told me you’re off the market? Rumour has it you’re smitten for a kitten?_ If Sawamura were in front of him right now that’s the one he’d use. It’s just teasing enough to get away with and he’d be able to convey his interest with his body language without coming on too strong if Sawamura isn’t in actual fact smitten for him. _Ah_ , he realises, he can’t text Sawamura such a question. He needs to ask him in person. He needs to be able to see his face. Needs to watch the way his mouth moves around his reply.

 **To:** Crow Captain  
**Subject:** Anytime!  
**Message:** Self-trained house cat and proud of it. Yeah, see you soon! Hope you’re preparing yourselves to be beaten again.

He opens his planner and counts along on his fingers. Four days isn’t that long. He can wait four days.

* * * *

It becomes apparent to Kenma almost immediately that they have a similar version of the white squidgy balls in Tokyo. They make them slightly differently but the base ingredients are the same and he wonders why he didn’t notice straight away. And why the Miyagi ones taste so much better to him. Still, he listens intently, nodding along in all the right places as Hinata guides him through the process on the other end of the screen in his own kitchen. He didn’t want to tell Kuroo that Hinata would be teaching him how to cook in case he offered to teach Kenma instead, but now he’s glad he didn’t tell him just to avoid the smirk Kuroo would wear as he explained they’d made the Tokyo edition of the squidgy balls together already, years ago.

“You’re not really meant to add flavours traditionally, but Natsu likes strawberry stuff so I’m gonna make some of mine strawberry flavoured.” Kenma watches Hinata drizzle some pink liquid on his sweets, tongue poking out of the side of his mouth as he concentrates on rolling the sauce around equally. Behind him his kitchen is in a state of disarray. Kenma is thankful he already understands Hinata’s _whoosh_ , _splat_ , _bam_ s because with his erratic movements and clumsy fingers he’d never had known what to do otherwise.

“You don’t like strawberry stuff?” A much safer question than _what’s your favourite flavour_?

“Hm, yeah I do!” Hinata laughs, looking towards Kenma from under his eyelashes. “It’s maybe my second favourite after grape. Grape Fanta is the best!”

“Grape,” Kenma muses aloud. Hinata did say he liked small things after all.

“What about you?”

“Pineapple or cherry.” Kenma can never decide between the two. Pineapples are sweetest in summer, but they involve a lot of effort to get into and Kenma isn’t known for being particularly active. Pineapple is his favourite when someone else cuts it up for him; cherries are his favourite otherwise.

“You like sweet stuff!” Hinata laughs again, wiping his hands down his jeans, leaving white splodges around his thighs. Kenma had never seen Hinata in jeans before today, was a little surprised to find he owned a pair, imagining that all his clothes would be flexible enough for him to jump around after a volleyball should the opportunity arise. Slim chance of that happening through a screen he guesses; Kenma is reluctant to throw him tosses in person.

“I guess so.” He’s been told before he doesn’t look like the type of person who would like sweet things.

“That’s really cute!” Hinata beams at him, humming away as he finishes off the last ball and pushes the tray to the side. “Now we just wait! Tada!” He stretches his fingers out in front of him and yawns dramatically before his eyes jump around the room, surveying his own mess. “I’ll clean up later.” He smiles sheepishly. His face gets gradually closer until he’s practically pressing himself up against the screen and Kenma is leaning away startled. The view point tips and Kenma realises Hinata is just picking up his laptop and carrying him back through his house. He’d done this in reverse earlier, giving him a pretend tour of each room. He flops down on a sofa and smiles broadly at Kenma again. “Do you have other plans today?”

“No.” Homework he should have already done and he did unlock a new area map on a game this morning, but they can wait.

“Want to watch a movie?”

“What?”

“Together.” Even through the screen Kenma can see how red Hinata’s face is becoming. “Want to watch a movie together? Same channel different sofas.” Kenma giggles, tucking a lose strand of hair behind his ear. Hinata wore jeans. And a light blue polo shirt that’s a little baggy. Hinata looked like he had tried to tame his hair and has been smiling all day, humming contentedly under his breath. Hinata who had jumped at the chance to teach Kenma how to make sweets – Kenma who had let him even after remembering he already knew how. He had told Kuroo it was different because Hinata is his friend but maybe it’s not so different after all. There’s a light fluttering inside him whenever Hinata smiles. More often than not he catches himself smiling too, echoing his laughs, reflecting his red face back at him.

“Shouyou,” Kenma doesn't like being the centre of attention. He doesn't like sticking out in a crowd. He doesn't like the feeling of people looking at him. But when it’s Hinata who is staring at him, focused on him as if nothing else matters, he only feels warm. He finds he doesn’t mind being the centre of attention so much, so long as it’s Hinata who’s paying attention. “like a date?”

“Yes!” Hinata has always been loud, always been unable to contain himself, so it doesn’t surprise Kenma that his answer is immediate. He sputters after his initial outburst, eyes wide and fingers flaying about as if he means to suck his answer back into himself. “I mean,” his whole body vibrates with his embarrassment and for the first time Kenma really resents having to watch him through his laptop, “only if you want it to be?”

The question presents itself in Kenma’s head, flashing up in front of him: **press [no] to remain in safe territory, press [yes] to continue into the unknown.** He swore he wouldn’t lose a friend like Hinata. When he thinks about it like that, the answer is easy. The light fluttering evolves into something a little more intense. “Yes,” he laughs, “I want it to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, sorry. Next chapter is training camp #2 so !! (related note: training camp #2 was a five nighter so !!!!) 
> 
> Thank you all so much for your lovely comments!! ♥  
> Reading them makes me smile huge like a true goof & also helps encourage me when I'm feeling like I'm doing a useless job, so yeah, thanks again! You're all amazing! (⁄ ⁄^⁄ᗨ⁄^⁄ ⁄) ♡


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise in advance.

Bokuto hums contemplatively on his straw before taking a long suck. He’s met with gargling sounds from the empty milk carton and he frowns deeply.

“Did I drink all this?”

“Bro!” Kuroo punches him on the shoulder. “Did you listen to anything I just said?” He punches him again for good measure. Bokuto hums once more, nodding sagely as he holds up his hand in a placating gesture.

“I am processing.” He scrunches his eyes closed, nose and forehead wrinkling. “Show me your phone again.” A long, suffering sigh escapes Kuroo but he dutifully drops his phone into Bokuto’s outstretched palm, urging himself not to blush as Bokuto scrolls through his message thread with Sawamura. Bokuto angles the phone on its side and tips his head the other way.

“Well?” Prompts Kuroo, not sure what any of this means.

“It’s just like I thought.” Bokuto nods knowingly. “I was wrong.” Kuroo’s heart leaps in his chest. “He’s actually pretty sexy. Look at him, in a rumpled suit, winking into the camera and framed by the sunset. I’m on board with this crush of yours. It’s very excellent.”

“You useless bird brain!” Kuroo growls, swiping his phone back before grabbing a handful of Bokuto’s hair and tugging it to smash their foreheads together. “I already know that!” They stare at each other, Bokuto blinking earnestly, eyes sparkling; Kuroo looks away first.

“Don’t worry bro, I have three theories.” Kuroo lets go of his hair and glares at him. “Ah! No! Four! I have four theories.” Bokuto smiles confidently. Kuroo sucks in a breath, fearing already that this isn’t going to help him.

“Go on then.”

“You could at least pretend to be enthusiastic, bro.”

“Sorry, sorry, please oh please great detective-sama, won’t you enlighten me with your masterful theories?”

“Well since you asked so nicely my young friend.” Bokuto beams, sitting up straighter and discarding his empty milk carton on the bench next to them. He unfurls his forefinger on his right hand, indicating it with his left. “Theory number one – maybe he’s half-foreign. You know they kiss as a greeting in the Philippines… though maybe that’s cheek to cheek not mouth to mouth... Is he half-Filipino?”

“I don’t know; I’ve never asked.” Kuroo admits, deciding not to tell Bokuto he had considered the possibility of Sawamura being half-French. Half-Filipino is way more likely.

“Too busy smooching.” Bokuto nods in understanding. “You should investigate into his heritage.” He unfurls his middle finger, pointing at it. “Theory number two – he’s cheating on Suga-san.” Bokuto looks just as upset by this as Kuroo feels. “Admittedly the one I find the least likely, but just to have all theories on the table.”

“Least likely. Yes. Good. That’s better.”

“It would take a particular kind of idiocy to cheat on pretty boy Suga-san. If he found out, what would happen? Oh, oh no, would he _cry_?” He leans forward slightly into Kuroo’s space, voice dropping lowly. “Bro, if he cried what would _I_ do? I’d have to comfort him, maybe cuddle him a little, he’d probably need to have his hair stroked or something, right?” Kuroo narrows his eyes at him.

“How did you manage to make this about your mole fetish?”

“I didn’t even mention his mole! Maybe _you’re_ the one with the mole fetish!”

“Sawamura doesn’t even have any moles!”

“Ah-huh! And you know this for certain? For a _fact_? You’ve personally witnessed his molelessness? _Huh_?” Kuroo opens his mouth but all that comes out is a strange squeaking sound. This exercise is proving to be even more unhelpful than he originally thought; now all he can think about is going on a mole hunting expedition on Sawamura’s body. Bokuto must realise where Kuroo’s imagination has leapt to, his red face a clear giveaway, because he squeaks too, eyes skittering away. He runs a hand through his hair and shakes himself a bit. “Theory number three,” he barrels on determinedly, holding up three fingers, “he broke up with Suga-san.”

“Oh.” Kuroo had never actually thought of that.

“Or I guess the other way around; Suga-san kicked him to the curb.” This version of events seems to please Bokuto a lot more. “Bye-bye Sawamura!” He chuckles, “Oh, I mean, hello Sawamura, in your case.”

“As in… they broke up… _because_ of me?” That doesn’t sit well with Kuroo, it’s like he’s responsible for their pain.

“Maybe because of you, maybe not. Maybe you’re the rebound.”

“I’m the rebound?” Kuroo repeats, mostly to himself, disliking this possibility more and more. “As in he’s using me to get over Sugawara?”

“The best way to get over a man is to get under a new one!”

“Did you get that off a fridge magnet?”

“What? No! Actually maybe, I don’t remember, but I got it from somewhere.” Bokuto shrugs unhelpfully. “You might not be the rebound though! Maybe they just got into a fight over whether they wanted to get a cat or a dog as a pet and you know how these things play out.” He sticks out his tongue and blows down lightly on it. Kuroo scrunches his nose.

“That’s a stupid thing to break up over. Wouldn’t normal people just get both?”

“Bro,” Bokuto’s eyes shine, “you’re so beautiful.”

“Maybe if I was less beautiful I wouldn’t lure boys away from their boyfriends.” Kuroo grumbles. Bokuto waves his hand around in the air.

“Nonsense! Suga-san is also beautiful! It’s like he’s vanilla ice cream, and you’re strawberry ice cream, both very good!”

“So what is Sawamura, the spoon?”

“No, he’s chocolate ice cream obviously! Which happily leads us right on into theory number four – he’s recruiting you.”

“Recruiting me? What for?” Briefly he imagines Sawamura as some kind of international secret spy who desperately needs Kuroo’s help with his latest mission. He’d have to train him because Kuroo doesn’t know much about being a secret spy. They’d wear tight leather outfits and Sawamura would lean across Kuroo’s back and hold his hands steady as he taught him how to fire a gun. It’s kind of hot. He wouldn’t be opposed to being recruited. Then he notices the withering look Bokuto is sending his way. “What?”

“Chocolate ice cream tastes great with vanilla.” Bokuto explains plainly, holding up a fist in front of Kuroo’s face. “Chocolate ice cream tastes great with strawberry,” he brings up his other fist to rest next to the first, “but you know what’s even better?” Slowly he merges his fists together, tangling all his fingers up. “All three together!”

“Together?” The squeak has somehow managed to work its way back into his voice, and his mouth feels dry. “As in like… _together_?” This thought has never once crossed Kuroo’s mind.

“Mhm, together.” Bokuto nods wisely. “You should think about that very real possibility. I know I will.”

“But I don’t want us to all be together!”

“Shh, shh, don’t be so rash, bro.” Bokuto pats his leg soothingly. “Think about it! It could be more than excellent. Suga-san’s moles, soft edges and dreamy hair, your long legs, long fingers and pretty face, Sawamura’s thighs, shoulders and sexy office worker cosplay kink.”

“You forgot Sawamura’s hands.”

“Ohoho! That’s the spirit! I’ve never seen his hands up close.”

“They’re big and warm. Strong hands. But also gentle, y’know?” He sighs wistfully.

“Wow. You’ve got it really bad.”

“I _know_.” Kuroo drops his head into his hands. “This is what I’ve been trying to tell you! But I still don’t want to be in some Neapolitan ice cream relationship.”

“Well, if you want you can add a banana, some cream and a cherry or two and you’ve got yourselves a banana split.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “I want it on record that I volunteer to be the banana.”

“Excuse me?”

“Akaashi could be the cream,” he muses on, ignoring Kuroo in favour of this fantasy, “he’d make good cream… maybe Kenma and the shrimp could be the cherries… Oh! Or that glasses kid!”

“And you claim not to be a pervert.” Kuroo tries to scowl at him, but the thought of Bokuto dressed up as a banana and attempting to seduce anyone, cherry or otherwise, has him laughing, knocking his shoulder fondly into him.

“I’m not a pervert, just a hopeless dreamer.”

“Hopeless is at least correct.” Bokuto pokes his tongue out at him.

“Alright then, so if we’re not hoping for an ice cream relationship, what are we hoping for?”

“Uhm,” Kuroo thinks about it. Having laid the theories out in the open like this he can’t help but feel the situation is even more dismal. “Well I don’t want to be a rebound,” that would just be depressing. Not to mention short-lived. “And there’s about zero chance that Sawamura’s a cheater.”

“Zero point zero, zero one percent chance.” Affirms Bokuto, nodding spiritedly. “So you’re hoping he’s half-Filipino?” He concludes, still nodding away to himself as if he’s glad they’ve finally wrapped this all up.

“Bro.” Bokuto raises an eyebrow at him. “In a dream world, what I’d want is for him to never date Suga in the first place.” That’s what he’s hoping for deep down. Or not so deep down these last four days. Ever since Yamamoto looked at him with that startled and bemused expression on his face, his fingers twitching restlessly on his shoulder, that’s what he’s been clinging onto.

“Oh!” Bokuto looks a little taken aback. “Impossible theory number five!”

“Impossible…” Kuroo echoes disheartened as Bokuto claps him on the back encouragingly. Bokuto doesn’t ever think anything’s impossible. In fact once he had told Kuroo that birds learn how to fly simply because they believe in themselves. They had been at a petting zoo at the time, and he had chased after an emu telling it to _just believe_ for the better part of the day.

“Impossible because years on the same team as Suga-san without at least one mole kiss…” Bokuto shakes his head gravely. “I can’t imagine that at all. But!” He looks at Kuroo out of the side of his eyes, smirk growing across his face, “if that’s what you want then I want it too.”

“Ohoho!” Kuroo tackles him side-on, poking him in the ribs and ruffling his hair. “I knew you’d be my number one cheerleader, bro.” Bokuto giggles, pink in the face.

“I’m still mostly disgusted. It’s a little bit tragic. Who am I meant to creep on pretty boys with now?” He pouts, hanging his head dramatically on Kuroo’s shoulder. “Oh! That reminds me!”

“You’ve found a pretty boy to creep on?”

“Not yet.” He flutters his eyelashes at Kuroo. “I decided what our counter-setter group chat is going to be!”

“Oh?” Kuroo is a little surprised Bokuto even remembered. Then again maybe Akaashi has been reminding him.

“Mhm, we’re going to need to recruit people.” Bokuto bursts into laughter at the alarmed look taking over Kuroo’s face. “Wait! No! Not that kind of recruiting!” He doubles over holding his sides and wheezes onto his knees. “Man, what a gutter brain!”

“Only because of what you just said!” Kuroo argues, messing up his hair some more.

“Sorry, sorry.” Bokuto wipes the back of his hand across his eyes. “A different kind of recruiting!”

“…secret spies?”

“Huh? No but that would be _so_ cool!” Probably for the best that Bokuto never gets given any firearms, Kuroo thinks, even though being a secret spy would be cool.

“Kuroo!” They both look up to see Yamamoto running through the gym door, hands cupped around his face like a megaphone. “Kuroo!” Kuroo stands up, waving an arm over his head.

“Yo!” Yamamoto’s face lights up as he spots them. He careens forwards, skidding to a stop just in front of Kuroo.

“Karasuno’s bus is pulling in.” He announces, tugging on Kuroo’s forearm. “C’mon!” Kuroo hesitates, looking back at Bokuto who is still sat on the bench.

“Ohoho,” Bokuto waggles his eyebrows, “what are you waiting for? Go welcome him!”

“I can wait,” he tells him, despite feeling like maybe he can’t; his body is already demanding he move, his feet lifting up onto his tip-toes and pitching him forwards. “We were having an important talk.” Counter-group chats definitely fall under things Bokuto would consider important.

“Nah, it can wait. Go be disgusting before Yamamoto tears off your arm.” A real possibility with the way Yamamoto is yanking on it.

“You’re not coming?”

“In a sec, I’ll find Akaashi first to let him know they’re here.” He stands up slowly, stretching out his arms above his head. Kuroo’s sure he’s never seen him so cool and composed which makes him think something is wrong. Bokuto tips his head to the side. “Why are you still here?”

“We _need_ to _go_!” Yamamoto whines, dragging Kuroo along.

“Okay, okay,” Kuroo tells them, “see you!” He throws his fist up to bump into Bokuto’s and then he bounces into step next to Yamamoto running out of the gym and into the sunlight. Coach Ukai undoubtedly gave Karasuno a pep talk before allowing them to get off the bus because Kuroo has enough time to catch his breath, lean against a wall and put into place what he hopes is a nonchalant yet dazzling smile before he sees Sawamura’s legs descend from the bus. He catches his eye and smiles slowly, affecting to be cool even though his blood is thrumming through his ears and the goose bumps on his arms are probably visible from the moon. Suddenly there’s a ball of orange in front of his face.

“Kuroo-senpai!” Hinata yells, jumping up and down with Kageyama hot on his heels looking more than pissed off. Instead of grabbing Hinata like Kuroo expects him to he huffs passed, grumbling under his breath.

“Hey shrimpy, good to see you.” Kuroo pinches Hinata’s cheek, laughing at the little squawk this causes and how Hinata flushes indignant. “Kenma’s-” he cuts himself off, realising he has no idea where Kenma is. He supposes he slipped off to their room to play his game when coach gave them free time.

“Shouyou.” They both jump, Hinata squeaking. Just behind Kuroo’s shoulder Kenma has appeared, hands jammed in his hoodie pockets. It’s not the one he usually wears with the front pouch, but his old one with a zip down the middle that he used to complain had gotten too baggy in the wash. Kuroo didn’t know he even owned it anymore. It’s a little lighter than the other one, so maybe he’s wearing it because of the warm weather. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Kuroo looks back and forth between their matching pink faces. He throws his arm lightly around Hinata’s shoulder and guides him into standing in front of Kenma, pinching his cheek again just because he thinks Kenma might find the squawk it produces cute too, and then removes himself from the scene. Yamamoto grabs him from behind roughly.

“Why are you playing match-maker for people who are better at it than you?” He hisses hysterically into his ear, more amused than annoyed.

“I didn’t mean to! They just appeared!” Yamamoto doesn’t listen to him, dragging him boldly along. Kuroo knows if he really wanted to he could hold his own against Yamamoto in a fight, but he’s finding it hard to muster the effort to care. Tanaka materialises under his arm and plants his hands firmly on Kuroo’s sides as he aids manhandling him along. Fighting the two of them off at once might prove more difficult.

“Great to see you again Kuroo-senpai.” Tanaka trills in a voice that sounds too teasing to be polite. Kuroo eyes the two of them carefully as they push him to a stop and stare at him critically.

“You look at bit scruffy.” Yamamoto comments, mouth dipping downwards. “Why is your shirt like that?” Tanaka begins to aggressively pat down the creases they had both just caused, tutting under his breath.

“What’s wrong with his hair?”

“It’s always like that, I don’t think there’s much we can do.” Yamamoto whispers back, positioning Kuroo’s hands on his hips and tilting his head to the side like he’s a shop mannequin.

“Maybe Daichi-san is into slobs?” Tanaka questions as Yamamoto wets his thumb and scrubs behind Kuroo’s ear.

“Oh. Should we mess up his shirt again then?” Tanaka’s hands pause where they were shoving Kuroo’s top into his shorts, his eyes darting down.

“At least he wore clean underwear.”

“Oi!” Kuroo throws his hands up, head spinning a little, and swats at both of them.

“Kuroo, please behave.”

“We’re trying to help.”

“If you weren’t _so_ useless-”

“Shut-up!” Kuroo goes to smack them again but they’ve started to crawl around his body at an alarming pace, pulling him about and giggling to themselves. He manages to grab Tanaka into a head-lock, not anticipating Yamamoto repositioning his feet at the exact same time. Or that Tanaka would drool all over his arm. He lets out a bark of frustration as a loud crowing sound bursts in front of them. Yamamoto and Tanaka freeze, snapping up straight. Less than ten feet in front of them Nishinoya is forcefully directing Sawamura along by the arm, crowing excessively loudly into the sky. He pulls up to a stop right in front of the three of them, Yamamoto placing Kuroo’s hands back on his hips and giving a satisfied nod.

“Oooh!” Nishinoya trills, smile splitting his face and voice at least three octaves higher than usual. “There you guys are! I’ve been looking for you _everywhere_!” He winks conspiratorially, shoving Sawamura forward slightly and stepping off to the side.

“Noya-san!” Yamamoto and Tanaka trill in sync. “What a surprise!” Kuroo has the feeling they are anything but surprised. Sawamura groans, rubbing the hairs at the back of his head. The gesture causes his biceps to flex, catching Kuroo’s attention completely and resulting in his knees feeling much weaker than before; he gulps, face burning.

“We have to go and do that thing!” Noya prompts, latching onto Tanaka’s shoulder.

“Oh right that _thing_!” Yamamoto nods animatedly.

“The thing!” Tanaka grabs onto Yamamoto and the three retreat backwards, arms still linked and smiles bright. “Well see ya Kuroo-senpai, Daichi-san!” They disappear around a corner, still walking backwards.

“How embarrassing.” Sawamura groans, staring after them. Kuroo’s still transfixed by the pull of Sawamura’s shirt around his muscles and the blush working its way up from his neck; for all he knows the tricycle could be stood on each other’s shoulders like a totem pole, but he nods an agreement anyway. Sawamura’s gaze slowly rolls back to Kuroo and his eyes widen. “Hey.” Kuroo feels like he’s floating away from the earth. He swallows again.

“Hey.” He mentally congratulates himself on how smooth that sounded, not even the slightest hitch to his voice. If he can keep the conversation to one word sentences he might be fine after all. Sawamura’s eyes crinkle around the edges, smile breaking out across his face as he takes in the rest of Kuroo.

“What happened to you?”

“Oh, uhm,” Kuroo glances down at himself, tugging his top all of the way out of his shorts and trying to remember how he usually stands. “Yamamoto and Tanaka.” He answers honestly, running a hand through his hair and grinning at Sawamura. It’s strange, he thinks, that he feels so nervous and itchy, so alien in his own skin around Sawamura, but at the same time completely comfortable. A kind of warmness settles over him. Sawamura puts him on edge and sends his heart into overdrive, but one of his smiles is enough to ground him and make him feel safe. He takes in a deep breath. “Sawamura, I was wondering-”

“Daichi!” Sugawara bounds around the corner, freezing when he sees the two of them. “Ah! Kit-Cat! Sorry!”

“Kit-Cat?”

“Ah!” Sugawara blinks twice before bursting into peals of laughter. “I’m so sorry! Captain Kitty Cat was too long for me to keep saying!” He laughs harder at the panic-stricken faces in front of him. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” He bends over slightly, holding onto his stomach, trying to get his giggles under control.

“Don’t worry about it.” Kuroo waves him off, not sure if it’s a good thing to know they’ve been talking about him.

“Sorry,” Sugawara apologises again between giggles, looking sheepishly at them, “Coach is looking for you, Daichi.”

“Oh. Right. Sure!” Sawamura springs into life, he’s such a good team dad that he doesn’t even consider not responding immediately.

“I can tell him I couldn’t find you,” hedges Sugawara uncertainly, voice bright as he stares meaningfully at Kuroo. Sawamura halts in his steps and stares back at Kuroo.

“Nah, it can wait!” Maybe now would be as good a time as any other to ask about Sawamura’s relationship status, especially if Bokuto’s theory number four proves to be true and they’re seeking an ice cream set-up. But he’s just not that brave. And he’s a little bit selfish; he wants Sawamura’s reaction all to himself.

“If you’re sure…” Sawamura trails off, and Kuroo wonders if he told Sugawara to run off and tell coach Ukai that he couldn’t find him, how long he’d be able to steal Sawamura for.

“I’m sure.” He says instead.

“Later then.” Sawamura uses the same soft tone he usually tells Kuroo _next time_ in; his voice full of promise.

“Sorry,” Kuroo thinks he hears Sugawara mumble again at Sawamura as they wander away. “I really interrupted there.”

* * * *

As it turns out later is an inaccessible time of the day. Hours have passed since Kuroo first laid eyes on Sawamura and he’s still been unable to steal him for a few minutes. Lunch involved everyone pawing at each other, glad to be reunited, and Yamamoto kicking him in the shin under the table several times for letting the tricycle's hard and subtle work go to waste. There’s a short break but Karasuno spend it claiming spaces in their bedroom and making up their futons on the floor. Kuroo wanders passed the open door approximately once every two minutes, hoping to catch Sawamura’s eye and mouth something cool like _could I interest you in a guided tour?_ After he complains about his lack of success on this front Kenma informs him that would have been the least cool way to initiate alone time and he’s marginally thankful for his failure, and for his decision not to text it to him.

So now he finds himself being submitted to hours of torture: practice matches. In a past life he must have been the worst kind of scoundrel to deserve this cruel and unusual punishment. If he thought watching Sawamura jump up to spike a ball before was difficult, watching him now that he knows what those shoulder blades feel like under his fingertips proves him wrong instantly. Seeing Sawamura catch a bead of sweat with his tongue was a walk in the park before he knew what that tongue felt like as it ran across his lower lip. Every time Sugawara laughs at him, congratulates him on a job well done or pats him on the back with soft fingers, Kuroo’s mind screams. How long before a touch crosses friendly into more-than-friendly?

“Kuroo-san.” Kuroo hums an acknowledgement even though his eyes never stop following Sawamura as he throws his head back in a laugh and thumps Azumane on the back. “Kuroo-san.” He tears his gaze away to frown down at the small but insistent hand on his arm. Yaku is looking up at him, face impassive. “You’re being a little bit too transparent.”

“Huh?” Yaku’s expression remains bland as he looks pointedly across the gym at Sawamura and back to Kuroo’s face.

“Someone will need to get you a mop if you keep drooling like that.”

“Oh.” Kuroo nods, dimly wondering if there’s anyone in his life who hasn’t made him want to crawl into a hole lately. Now even Yaku’s noticed and getting involved. What next? First date options from Lev? Kissing tips from Yuki? Whatever it is he’s pretty sure he can handle it. He’s finally reached a stage where his life is so embarrassing that the only option left to him is to embrace it. He smiles down at Yaku. “Sorry.” Then turns to rally his team. Sure, Sawamura’s even more distracting than before, but that doesn’t mean he’ll let them win. Kai seconds his encouragements, clapping him on the back just as the whistle blows.

It would be wrong of Kuroo not to admit that in the sixteen days since he last played Karasuno – not that he’s keeping count – they’ve improved, but there’s something a little out of sync with the oddball duo that keeps them on edge and jittery. Glasses is scowling more than usual and their new blonde manager appears to be having some kind of meltdown on the side lines. It’s almost like they’re less of a team than they were before, despite being individually stronger.

He’s so focused on this subtle shift in dynamics and how it has affected Karasuno’s overall team play that it doesn’t register that he’s stood directly opposite Sawamura until it’s too late. Their eyes meet with nothing but a net between them. The last time they were this close Sawamura had been pushing himself up to kiss him. Unconsciously his gaze falls down to Sawamura’s feet; they’re planted firmly on the ground, not about to tip-toe their way up anywhere. Not that he’d need to tip-toe at his regular height. Still, it _was_ cute. There’s a solid thud behind him. The sound of the whistle. Tanaka had just sent a spike straight passed his ear. If he had been paying attention there’s no way he wouldn’t have been able to block that. He looks up alarmed and meets Sawamura’s equally dumb-founded face.

“Kuroo,” hisses Kenma at his left, “get your head in the game.” Behind them Yamamoto mutters _you gotta get’cha, get’cha, get’cha, get’cha head in the game_.

“Sorry.” The whistle blows. Sawamura coughs, carrying Kuroo’s attention back to him.

“Something wrong, Captain?” Sawamura practically purrs, smirk lighting up his whole face. “You seem a little _distracted_.” Kuroo’s pulse rushes to his ears. Is he seriously flirting with him? Through a net? In the middle of a match? Sawamura’s tongue darts out momentarily to wet his top lip. Kuroo zeroes in on the movement, swallowing hard. A ball whips by his ear. Yaku’s there this time, clearly having realised Kuroo’s body isn’t responding like it usually does. The ball bounces expertly up from his hands, flying towards Kenma who in turn tosses it high for Yamamoto. Noya receives the ball before it hits the ground, shouting out to Kageyama who flicks it backwards for Azumane. A drop of sweat rolls down Sawamura’s neck, his thigh muscles tensing as he braces himself to jump; the smirk growing wider on his face. Kuroo feels electric, as if Sawamura’s teasing, cocky tone has sparked him into life. He sees the ball coming in slow motion. They jump at the same time, but Kuroo’s always been an excellent blocker. It rebounds off his forearm and blasts onto the floor on the other side of the net. The whistle sounds before his feet have even touched back down.

“Nah,” Kuroo throws back at Sawamura, not even bothering to hide how smug he’s feeling, “I’m good.” Sawamura chuckles out of the side of his mouth.

“Yeah.” He agrees, tips of his ears dusting red, “you are.”

* * * *

As soon as the final whistle is blown Kuroo is off the court and barrelling out of the gym. Scheduled practice is over for the day anyway, and even though he’s aware he should have stuck around to see whatever pointers coach had to offer he needs air. Nekoma had won of course, even if the gap was smaller than last time, they’d still won. But that’s not what has him throwing his head under the drinking fountain, cold water blasting on the back of his neck and down his shirt.

“Shit.” He mutters. There was a moment there, with Sawamura’s teasing laugh filtering through the net between them, that he’d almost lost it. “Damn.” If volleyball was a contact sport there’s no way he would have been able to keep his hands to himself. If they’d been playing on the same side of the net there’s no way he would have been able to hold himself back from lunging forward and licking that smirk straight off his face. He has it way worse than he thought. What if Sawamura only wants him as part of his ice cream sundae love life?

“Hey, Kuroo?” Kuroo jolts up fast, forgetting that he’s holding his head under a tap and smashes the back of his skull into it.

“Shit.” He holds his hand up, rubbing firmly at the back of his head as he furiously blinks the water from his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Of all the people Kuroo would expect to follow his hasty departure from the gym, Sugawara is not one of them. He blinks a few more times just in case his eyes are playing tricks on him.

“Sugawara,” he breathes, completely caught off guard. Sugawara can probably see straight through him. He’s more than likely come to punch him in the face for ogling his boyfriend so obviously in front of both their teams. For _flirting_. Kuroo’s mouth drops open. Possible boyfriend – maybe boyfriend, maybe not – he reminds himself fiercely. And Sugawara doesn’t look angry at all, a little concerned, but mostly amused. “Uhm, yeah, thanks, it’s just a little bump.” He brings his hand down away from the back of his head and uses the front of his shirt to wipe the water away from his face. Sugawara looks at him, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“No. I meant, are you _okay_?” He makes broad sweeping motions with his hands, taking a tentative step closer to Kuroo. “I know it’s not any of my business, but Daichi’s my best friend.” Kuroo steps back, staring at Sugawara uncertainly. A tiny frown dips in his forehead as he steps closer to Kuroo once more. “So it’s kind of my business, by association.”

“Uhm,” alarm bells are clanging through Kuroo’s head so loudly he can’t think straight. Sugawara closes the gap a little more, face openly anxious as he rests his hand gingerly on Kuroo’s forearm. Kuroo stares at the point of contact, mind reeling.

“Kuroo?” Sugawara’s voice is so soft and so gentle, yet Kuroo feels as if he’s being coaxed against his will. This is the true power of Karasuno’s vice captain. A strange strangled noise leaves the back of his throat and suddenly every question he’s been saving for Sawamura floods into his mouth.

“Sorry,” he blurts, brain filtering everything in the wrong order, “I’m sorry.” Sugawara’s eyes go wide. “I kissed your Sawamura!” There’s a small pause where Kuroo can only hear the sound of himself gasping for breath. Sugawara blinks slowly and then he erupts into laughter. He throws both his hands over his mouth in an attempt to stifle himself, practically choking back his own giggles.

“Sorry?” He queries, voice light and happy. “Why are you apologising?”

“Because,” Kuroo gapes, “because-”

“Ah!” Sugawara falls into a stunned silence. “ _Your_ Sawamura,” he repeats in a fascinated voice. “Oh my God. Kuroo! _Oh my God_!” He drags his hands down his face and stares at Kuroo completely dismayed. “How stupid are you?”

“Huh?”

“ _He_ kissed _you_!”

“I kissed him back!” Kuroo doesn’t really get why he feels so defensive over that point, he just knows it’s important.

“Oh my God. It all makes sense now. This whole time he thought you were straight, when you were just holding yourself back!” Sugawara groans deeply, shaking his head. “I’m going to smack him.” He decides firmly. “I’m going to actually beat him up. He’s the definition of useless!”

“What?” Horror fills Kuroo at the prospect of Sawamura getting beaten up for something he’s at least half-responsible for. “No! Smack me instead!” He scrunches his eyes closed and braces himself as best as he can. He deserves this much at least. The slap never comes. Warm, soft fingers reach out and grab his hands.

“Kuroo,” Sugawara’s voice is much more assertive than before. “I’m not dating Daichi.” He makes a face as if he’s accidentally just gulped a mouthful of expired milk. “He’s like my brother, do you know how gross that would be?” Kuroo’s eyes fly wide.

“You’re not-?” Sugawara smiles so radiantly, Bokuto was right all along; he _is_ an angel.

“Nope.”

“And I’m- I’m not a rebound?” A strange kind of calm settles over Kuroo. It’s like he’s in a daze. Or in a dream. His chest feels lighter than it has in weeks and he’s certain if it wasn’t for the hold Sugawara has on his hands, anchoring him down, he’d float away and never be seen again.

“Nope.” Sugawara repeats, smile growing on his face.

“And Sawamura- he- he _isn’t_ half-Filipino? or French?” Sugawara scoffs lightly, shaking his head. “And this isn’t- you guys aren’t- you don’t want a Neapolitan ice cream?”

“What?” Sugawara looks up at the sun. “Right now? It’s a little hot I guess…” He pats Kuroo reassuringly as if he’s dealing with a small child. “Do you need an ice cream? Will it help with the shock?”

“No, no, no, Bokuto said maybe you guys were… _recruiting_.” Understanding dawns on Sugawara and he’s forced to let go of Kuroo’s hands to mute his giggles again.

“No, we are not recruiting.” He wipes a tear away from the corner of his eye. “Neapolitan ice cream huh? Hey, did he make me the vanilla ice cream?” Kuroo nods dumbly. Sugawara let’s out an exasperated sigh. “How rude. Daichi is way more vanilla than I am. You and Bokuto are more vanilla too!” He accuses, pouting.

“Bokuto was the banana.”

“What?”

“Oh… in the banana split.” It’s like Kuroo has no control over his mouth anymore. Sugawara raises an eyebrow teasingly.

“There was a banana split?”

“Mhm. Akaashi was the cream; Kenma, the shrimp and Glasses were cherries.”

“Oh my God!” Sugawara doesn’t bother to stop his laughter this time, holding onto Kuroo’s arm as he crumples into himself. “Stop! You’re killing me!” It must be catching because watching Sugawara fail to contain his mirth suddenly makes the whole situation hilarious to Kuroo. Images of Bokuto dressed as a banana and chasing after the cherry trio has him clutching onto Sugawara, laughter wracking through his body.

“I’m sorry.” He says after they’ve both calmed down. Sugawara is raining down sunshine smiles again. “For worrying you.”

“Pfft, don’t worry. I’m more offended over being vanilla.”

“I’ll make sure to tell Bokuto so he can re-cast us.” Sugawara nods happily.

“Good.”

“Good.” Kuroo echoes, suddenly very aware of himself and their surroundings. “Okay, well, I’ll just-”

“Yes! Go, go!” Sugawara shoos him away with his hands. Kuroo goes to leave, pausing to look back at Sugawara. He said they weren’t dating, but there’s something tugging at him insistently, telling him this can’t _really_ be real.

“And you don’t _like_ him right? I mean, I’m not-”

“Ew, Kuroo.” Sugawara wrinkles his nose up. “Definitely not. He’s not my type.” He dismisses casually, which makes Kuroo only more suspicious.

“Broad shoulders and perfectly sculpted thighs aren’t your type?” He tips his head in confusion.

“Wait, are you trying to convince me to ask Daichi out?” Sugawara’s eyes crinkle again, his voice gently mocking. “Is that really what’s happening?”

“Oh. No. I-” Sugawara holds up a hand as if he completely understands Kuroo’s concerns. Up until five minutes ago he was under the illusion that they were infatuated with each other, so it makes sense he’s having difficulty stomaching the truth.

“Hey Kit-Cat,” Sugawara rests a hand on his hip and a finger on his lip in pretend thought, “let’s just say I’m more into cream.” He winks as Kuroo’s mouth drops open. At the back of his mind something clicks into place that had been playing on his mind.

“There’s not a setter group chat is there?” Kenma ha never once mentioned it. Kuroo meant to ask him but always forgot and it's never made complete sense to him as to why Kenma has never brought it up; the only secrets he’s ever kept from Kuroo have involved the shrimp.

“Well,” Sugawara drags out the word as if he’s singing it, “if myself, Oikawa-kun and Akaashi-kun count as a group chat I guess there is. We are all setters.” Maybe this is what Sawamura was thinking of when he had told him Sugawara’s deviousness was rubbing off on him.

“You’re an evil genius.” Sugawara’s smile only grows wider.

“So, now we’ve established that…” he makes more shooing motions with his hands and Kuroo returns his smile, walking away again. He goes to turn a corner when he suddenly thinks.

“Hey, Sugawara, if you ever need any help-”

“I’ll go to literally anyone other than the most oblivious person of the year.” He chuckles to himself. “But thanks.” Kuroo can feel his face burn a little bit at that jibe, turning on his heel and running away before Sugawara notices.

“Shit,” he mutters to himself as he turns the corner back towards the gym. Now that he’s alone the reality of the situation is dawning on him. They’re not dating. They never were dating. Sawamura is single. Kuroo is single. Sawamura thought he was straight, but had still kissed him and he’s not even half-Filipino. He’s so brave. Kuroo skids to a stop, resting his hands on his knees to breathe in deeply a few times.

“Kuroo?” He lifts his head to the side. A few people are still inside the gym, practicing in their free time before dinner. Bokuto is waving at him enthusiastically as Akaashi fetches a ball. “Kuroo! Where did you disappear off to?” A grin takes up Kuroo’s whole face as he makes his way into the gym, borderline charging at his friend. He needs to tackle him immediately to get rid of some of this excess energy before he explodes.

“Bro!” Kuroo shouts, throwing his arms wide. He’s just so happy. “Impossible theory number five!” Bokuto jumps into the air, hooting passionately; he truly is the best cheerleader. There’s a split second where Kuroo thinks he should have looked around a bit before barging onto a volleyball court people are still using. This second occurs the moment before a ball collides into his face, snapping his head back. He blinks at the ceiling before his vision fades black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dedicate the ending of this chapter to @leeleetaichou who wanted Kuroo to get hit with a stray ball; your wish is my command! 
> 
> ALSO THIS FIC NOW HAS FANART!! *Lizzie McGuire voice* HEY NOW, HEY NOOOW, THIS IS WHAT DREAMS ARE MADE OF ~~  
> http://kerahgreywaren.tumblr.com/post/137791925550/panda-pajama-daichi-from-tmntransformers-fic  
> *weeps endlessly* ♥ ♥ 
> 
> & & & & thanks as always for all your amazing comments (*˙︶˙*)☆*° !


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I titled my chapters then this one would be "Captain's meeting" ohoho. *waggles eyebrows*
> 
> [edit: just a quick language clarification as i've gotten a couple of comments here & a couple of anon queries on tumblr, when i use the word "kit" i mean "sports uniform". so any time "volleyball kit" or "kit" is used, i'm referencing the jersey+shorts combo they wear to do the sports. (y) i often try to clarify language differences in notes, but this time i was honestly unaware "kit" wasn't universally used in all forms of english, so sorry for the oversight orzz]

The ball rebounds off of Kuroo’s face and bounces half a dozen times across the gym floor before rolling slowly to a stop. No one seems to pay much attention to it, focused instead on Kuroo motionless on the floor, blood dripping out of his left nostril. Nishinoya whistles low.

“Woah Asahi-san, I think you killed him!” He shouts delighted, twisting his neck back to smile broadly at Azumane through the net. Azumane is frozen in place, arm still extended in front of him where he hit the ball and face paler than Nishinoya’s ever seen before.

“I’ll get Kenma.” Akaashi offers to no one in particular, mostly unconcerned for Kuroo and walking straight passed him as he leaves the gym. Bokuto falls dramatically to his knees.

“Bro!” He wails up at the ceiling. “Don’t leave me!” He tugs on the ends of his hair and looks desperately at Nishinoya. “What do we do?” Nishinoya springs towards Kuroo on the floor, cocking his head to the side in thought.

“Bury him!” He nods decisively. “He’ll start to smell the place out otherwise.”

“What? No! Kuroo, don’t go towards the light!” Bokuto inches slightly closer to Kuroo but is still unwilling to touch him, just in case he makes it worse. Nishinoya takes out his phone and snaps a photo. “What are you doing?” Bokuto looks scandalised, shuffling in front of Kuroo and rolling to his knees protectively.

“Asahi-san’s first murder is definitely something that needs to be documented.” Nishinoya smiles again as behind him Azumane makes a high-pitched keening sound.

“He’s not dead!” Yells Bokuto, although he doesn’t sound entirely convinced. “He’s just napping!” Nishinoya rolls his eyes. Bokuto turns back to stare at Kuroo, frowning contemplatively. He reaches out with both of his hands hesitantly and then shakes Kuroo violently. “Wake up bro! Wake up!”

“Brilliant.” Comments Nishinoya, voice even brighter than before. “I should film this.” Another shrill sound escapes Azumane and Nishinoya looks back at him. He’s a little greener than before but at least he’s managed to lower his arm fully.

“He’s not dead.” Azumane whispers, wide and unblinking gaze focused on Nishinoya. As if that were his cue, Kuroo groans deeply, hand twitching.

“He’s alive!” Bokuto’s voice rings out manically. “I knew he was stronger than that!”

“He died.” Nishinoya states, twisting his head back and forth to nod at both of them. “But he’s a cat so he has eight more lives.”

“Oooh! So he has nine chances at this life? Instead of nine different lives?” Bokuto has paused in his violent shaking of Kuroo to stare up at Nishinoya curiously. This is the type of thing that he considers must have knowledge.

“Each cat is different.” Nishinoya dismisses easily. “They get to choose where to spend their lives.”

“He chose to come back for me.” Bokuto’s eyes shine with emotion. Kuroo groans again, attempting to push himself up. Bokuto hushes him immediately, patting his arm as he starts to help him to sit up. “Don’t worry bro, I’ve got you.”

“He came back for Daichi-san.” Nishinoya grins wickedly, enjoying how his answer causes Bokuto to drop Kuroo, completely offended and Azumane to wilt onto the floor with his head in his hands.

“Daichi.” Azumane moans. “I have to tell Daichi.” Nishinoya ducks under the net and wanders over to drape himself across Azumane’s back. He pats the top of his hair gently.

“Don’t worry about it Asahi-san. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”

“We’re here!” Tanaka screams as he leaps across the gym, followed seconds later by Yamamoto.

“Where’s the body?” Yamamoto holds a shovel triumphantly over the top of his head. Azumane shrinks further into himself, curling up into a protective ball.

“We’re here too.” Akaashi stands just inside the gym, as if stepping in any further will involve him with the situation more than he would like. He looks across the room slowly. “Where did you find a shovel?” Kenma doesn’t have the same concerns as Akaashi, immediately approaching where Bokuto is holding down Kuroo. He raises an eyebrow at him.

“What are you doing?”

“He’ll die if we move him right? Drown in his nose blood! Or swallow his tongue!” Bokuto’s voice is quivering slightly and other than Azumane he seems the most affected by the situation. Akaashi sighs deeply before giving in, walking over and squatting down next to Bokuto.

“Don’t worry Bokuto-san,” he tells him, voice level and controlled. “It was a tiny knock. He’ll be fine.” Kenma nods reassuringly.

“He’s been hit in the head before.”

“How many times?” Bokuto demands, staring at Kenma as though this is of vital importance. “What if he’s already used up his nine lives?” Kenma blinks.

“Bro,” Kuroo’s voice doesn’t sound scratchy or weak, just vaguely groggy as if he’s been woken up earlier than usual on a weekend. “If you thought moving me would kill me why did you help me up and then drop me?” He waves his hand around in the air, but makes no attempt to get up from the floor. “I’m fine Azumane.” He calls out, shooting a thumbs up when Azumane peaks through his fingers in Kuroo’s direction. He doesn’t seem to be relieved at all by Kuroo’s reassurance.

“Here, I brought water.” Kenma places a glass of cold water next to him. “There’s a straw.” He adds in case that wasn’t obvious. Gently he lifts Kuroo’s head and shoulders up, shuffling forwards on his knees with his feet tucked underneath them. Kuroo swallows a few mouthfuls of water before flopping back down; Kenma’s thighs are the perfect cushion.  
  
“I didn’t realise his nose was bleeding.” Akaashi’s mouth turns down on one side, thoughtful. “We should have brought some tissues.” Kuroo waves his hand around in the air again.

“I’m fine.” He wipes his nose across the back of his hand and grins up at them.

“You’ve just smeared blood all over your face.” Points out Yamamoto helpfully, meandering towards them, balancing the shovel behind his neck between both wrists. Behind him Tanaka is aiding Nishinoya in pulling Azumane out of his ball and across the floor.

“Why do you have a shovel?” Kuroo doesn’t even recall Yamamoto being in the gym, but he supposes he could have missed anything with the way Bokuto was shouting and shaking him about.

“We were going to bury you.” Yamamoto shrugs, slightly disappointed that they aren’t going to be burying anyone after all.

“That sounds like a fine plan.” Being buried right about now would mean that he no longer has to live through his train wreck of a life; a truly wonderful solution.

“Kuroo-san.” Azumane has finally been dragged to Kuroo’s feet and looks like he wants to both cry and vomit in equal measure. “I’m _so_ sorry.” His bottom lip quivers a bit.

“Nah, don’t worry!” Kuroo tries to smile comfortingly, but it comes off as more of a grimace. “It was my own fault anyway.”

“Always look both ways before you cross the street.” Tanaka proclaims, holding his fist across his heart as if he is imparting great wisdom upon the group before him.

“I think the tap hurt more than the ball anyway.” Kuroo adds thoughtfully, wincing ever so slightly whenever Kenma, who has taken it upon himself to start combing Kuroo’s hair with his fingers, accidentally pokes the bump from earlier.

“What tap?” Bokuto twists his head to the side, blinking owlishly down at him. “There wasn’t a tap, bro.”

“Asahi-san, I think you broke him!” Azumane whimpers as Nishinoya claps him on the back proudly. “That’s one way to defeat the competition!”

“I hit my head on a tap when I was talking to Suga-san.” Kuroo tells Bokuto, ignoring the way Yamamoto shakes his head in disappointment and Akaashi tries to hide his snort behind Bokuto’s back.

“Ohoho it’s Suga-san now is it?” Bokuto waggles his eyebrows.

“What about Suga?” Azumane sounds concerned, holding both of Nishinoya’s hands in one of his own to limit his movement. Kuroo’s eyes float lazily over all of them.

“Why are there so many people here? Isn’t it dinner time?”

“Akaashi-san told me you were injured.” Kenma peers down at him from over his forehead.

“Noya-san told us Asahi-san had killed someone, so we came to help right away!” Tanaka is very proud of how quickly they responded, puffing his chest out accordingly.

“We were still practicing,” Akaashi supplies, indicating himself, Bokuto, Nishinoya and Azumane. “ _You_ interrupted us.”

“Ney, Akaashi, don’t be mean. I’m injured.” Kuroo pouts, blinking earnestly up at Akaashi. Kenma flicks him in the forehead.

“Hey hey hey Akaashi, is it really dinner time?” Bokuto asks Akaashi, tugging on the sleeve of his top insistently. “I _hate_ missing meals!”

“Mhm.” Akaashi hums in deliberation, “we should probably eat.” He glances down at Kuroo. “We could bring you back something.”

“I’m fine. I can go to dinner.” Kuroo still makes no move to get up from the floor.

“The blood has started to dry.” Yamamoto frowns. “I don’t think you should let people see you like that.”

“Sloppy.” Adds Tanaka ruefully.

“I’ll bring you food.” Azumane starts, nodding and gathering himself off of the floor. “And some tissues. It’s the least I can do.”

“Woah Asahi-san, you’re so cool!” Nishinoya jumps up and down, beaming at him. “Don’t worry Kuroo,” he bellows in a deeper voice, attempting to imitate Azumane’s, and pointing dramatically at Kuroo. “I will look after you!” He winks, smiling confidently and holds his fingers up in a peace sign.

“Oh, you don’t really need to.” Kuroo tries, but his voice is drowned out by Yamamoto and Tanaka who have already started to get fired up over the idea. The tricycle leave with a loud battle cry, Nishinoya dragging along a helpless Azumane by the arm. If he didn’t want to go he could most definitely over-power him, Kuroo thinks, so he must enjoy it at least a little.

“We should probably stop them.” Kenma notes, twirling the ends of Kuroo’s hair around his fingers. “Before they tell Sawamura-san.” He adds, smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“You think they would really do that?” Kuroo finally sits up, startled and hair spiking up at all angles. The dried blood adds to his current manic look, especially now that Kenma can see how far it’s dribbled down his neck.

“I think that was their main plan.” Akaashi notes. “I’ll stop them and feed Bokuto-san at the same time.” He stands up, patting dust off of his shorts. “C’mon Bokuto-san.”

“Right! Don’t you worry, bro! We’ll sort everything out!” He marches off determinedly, calling at Akaashi to hurry up. Kenma waits until they’ve disappeared before looking critically at Kuroo again.

“Let’s get you showered.” He decides. “I’ll message Shouyou to bring us some food.” It’s very telling, Kuroo thinks, that Kenma trusts this mission to Hinata as a pose to any of the other people who already know. Above Akaashi even. Kenma narrows his eyes at the leer taking over Kuroo’s face. “I told him I’d meet him at dinner.” He admits, a little pink across his cheeks, “I don’t want him to wait for me.”

* * * *

“Bro!” Bokuto careens wildly into Karasuno’s bedroom. “What are you _doing_?!” He pants, out of breath and incensed, staring at Kuroo as if he’s just walked in on something unforgivable. Kuroo blinks, looking down at himself and around the room for hints of his misdemeanour. He’s sat cross-legged on Hinata’s futon, an array of smuggled plates of food on the floor. Ennoshita sits cross-legged on his own futon opposite, clicking away studiously on his Pocketbook. Kenma and Hinata are squashed side by side next to Kuroo, shoulders and knees touching, and although Ennoshita had offered to let Kuroo sit with him multiple times, he thinks the shrimp is thankful for the excuse for them to squash up.

“Eating?” He hedges, unsure. He’d never really spoken to Ennoshita before, but he likes the guy. He’s not as rowdy or demanding as the other second years and when Hinata dragged both himself and Kenma into their room to dish out his stolen spoils, he hadn’t seemed annoyed by the disruption, smiling friendly and removing his earphones to talk. He has a soft familiar presence and even Kenma has warmed up to him quickly. Kenma was a little bit quieter than usual at first, but considering he’s not made to reach for his Gameboy once Kuroo knows he’s comfortable.

“But why are you _here_?!” Bokuto sounds positively pained, fingers gripping around the edge of the doorframe and staring at Kuroo uncomprehendingly.

“Oh. Sorry. Did you go back to the gym? I needed a shower.” He gestures with his chopsticks at his nose that Kenma helped him to stuff with tissue. Maybe Bokuto had brought him food to the gym, even after he messaged him telling him not to worry.

“ _Nooooo_.” Bokuto whines, jumping forwards and snatching the chopsticks out of Kuroo’s hand. “We don’t have time for this.” He drags Kuroo to his feet, patting the stray crumbs off of his sweat pants and grumbling under his breath. “We have to go.”

“Go where?” Kenma looks at Bokuto disapprovingly. “He’s eating and then going to bed.”

“He hit his head _twice_!” Hinata pipes, clearly not realising Bokuto already knows this. “Ennoshita-senpai looked it up on his thingy.” He flaps a hand at Ennoshita who is watching the two Captains with mild interest as he nibbles on a rice ball. “He has to rest!”

“If he vomits, loses his hearing or sight we should take him to the hospital.” Kenma recites, looking at Ennoshita for confirmation that he’s remembered that correctly. He smiles happily after Ennoshita nods at him encouragingly. Kuroo really likes this guy; he's probably great with animals.

“Have you vomited?” Bokuto is still clamped onto Kuroo’s arm, but he’s started hopping from foot to foot restlessly.

“No.” Kuroo doesn’t even feel sick. “I took some pain killers so it doesn’t even hurt anymore.” Ennoshita whistles, impressed.

“Captain Kitty Cat, takes a spike from our ace straight to the face and shrugs it off.” Hinata splutters slightly at the use of the nickname. Kuroo’s not even surprised anymore, instead wondering if he’s getting his information from the tricycle or the setter squad. Maybe even straight from the horse’s mouth, he is a little similar to Sawamura; they probably get on really well.

“Great! No vomiting! You’re fine! Off we go!” Bokuto’s impatience has reached higher levels than Kuroo can ever remember seeing before.

“Go where?” Kenma repeats, checking the time on his phone with a frown.

“There’s an emergency Captains meeting!” Bokuto screeches, huffing out a big breath of air and staring at the three still sat on futons on the floor daringly. When nobody says anything for all of three seconds he takes it as consent and whisks Kuroo out into the hall, marching at a surprisingly fast pace. “The one time you’re not in your room.” He complains, mostly to himself. “When I went there before I thought you were just in the bathroom. You think Kai or Yaku would have told me you were out playing picnic but no. That would have been too easy. Now we’re late!”

“So there really is a Captains meeting?” Kuroo is almost positive there have never been any Captains meetings before and certain that if there have been then he’s missed them.

“Uhm,” Bokuto pauses, eyes darting behind him to stare at Kuroo “sure.” Bokuto is an awful liar. Kuroo opens his mouth to tell him exactly that, but then Bokuto is tugging him down the stairs at an alarming rate and he focus his energy on making sure his feet land properly. Another fall would mean coach benching him tomorrow for sure. He jogs after Bokuto obediently, following him out of the building and in the direction of the gym. Bokuto ushers him along to the changing room and it’s only then that he stops.

“Oi, Bro-” Bokuto cuts him off with a stern look, pressing his finger to his lips and making a sharp _shh_ -ing noise.

“Akaashi pointed out it was all my fault.” He whispers, face dropping into a miserable expression.

“What are you talking about?” If life has taught Kuroo anything it’s that when someone whispers it’s always polite to whisper back.

“It was _me_.” Bokuto holds both his hands across his chest. “ _I_ told you Sawamura and Suga-san were dating.” He sounds like this realisation is tormenting him in several ways.

“Oh.” Kuroo smiles warmly. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

“You _guess_? Bro it’s totally true! You trusted me and I _hurt_ you.” Bokuto deflates all at once and Kuroo really wishes he had been there when Akaashi delivered this epiphany just so he could have averted this crisis before it took root in Bokuto’s mind. He flicks Bokuto's nose to get his full attention.

“Your intentions were pure,” he tells him and it’s true. Bokuto’s intentions are always pure. Except when it comes to pretty boys, moles and ice cream arrangements, apparently. “You didn’t hurt me I promise.” If he really thinks about it, it’s more his own fault for never asking Sawamura himself. In fact he still hasn’t asked Sawamura himself. “You’re my best bro.” He adds when Bokuto remains crestfallen.

“Right.” He affirms. “Number one bro, currently number one cheerleader.” They grin at each other stupidly, and then Bokuto turns the doorknob of the changing room and looks at Kuroo with an expression he can’t place. “This is my real apology.”

“What?”

“And also happy birthday, merry Halloween and season’s greetings.” He swings the door open slowly and pushes Kuroo inside. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

“Huh?” Up until Bokuto had opened the door, Kuroo had assumed he’d just wanted to have a heart-to-heart bro-talk away from everyone else. His eyebrows knit together in confusion. Bokuto gives him two thumbs up.

“I have to fetch the other Captains.” He explains, this lie less obvious than the first if only for his lack of hesitation. He closes the door on Kuroo’s face and Kuroo listens as his steps retreat rapidly away.

“Huh.” He’s been in this changing room plenty of times, so it isn’t like he’s been abandoned in an unfamiliar place. Plus Bokuto had said he’d be right back, and even if he’s often poorly informed, Kuroo still trusts him. He shuffles down the narrow corridor and around a row of lockers. If he remembers correctly there’s a bench against one wall that he can sit on whilst he waits. Maybe Bokuto’s bringing him cake as an apology? True to Sugawara’s summation that he’s the most oblivious person of the year, Kuroo notices the bench before he notices Sawamura stood on the other side of the room.

“Kuroo?” Kuroo’s head jerks up so fast he thinks he sprains his neck. Now that he thinks about it, one of the lights was already on and neither he nor Bokuto flicked any switch. Sawamura stands in front of an open locker, hands curling around the bottom of a top as if he were about to take it off. Even in this half-light the definition of his hip bones causes Kuroo’s mouth to water. He looks different in red. Kuroo’s eyes go wide, a whine working its way out of his throat unbidden.

“Is that my kit?” A glaringly stupid question, he realises, as soon as it’s left his mouth. Karasuno doesn’t wear red, and even if they did, Kuroo would recognise the volleyball kit he’s been wearing all year anywhere. The huge number one on the front is a small hint too.

“Uhh,” Sawamura looks even more stunned by this turn of events than Kuroo feels. He opens and closes his mouth, completely speechless, and then drops the front of Kuroo’s shirt back over his stomach. “Uhh.” He makes a step towards Kuroo, the blush that’s taken over his face suddenly apparent and Kuroo is able to breathe fractionally easier knowing that Sawamura is just as flustered as he is. “Uhm yeah.” They stand there staring at each other uselessly. On a scale of one to ten, Kuroo thinks to himself, how inappropriate would it be for him to take a photo? Surely more appropriate behaviour than borrowing your rival’s kit to try on.

“Cosplay kink.” Of all of the things Kuroo’s brain could have supplied, of course that’s what it comes up with. Sawamura’s face burns impossibly brighter, more than likely because Kuroo didn’t sound accusing, or amused or even teasing. No, the words tumbled out of his mouth in an enchanted little sigh; he’s mesmerised. The shirt hangs lower on Sawamura than it does on Kuroo, because he’s a little shorter, but Sawamura’s shoulders are broader, the muscles in his thighs a little thicker, and so the kit pulls in all the right places. Every stretch of fabric across his skin is ingraining itself into Kuroo’s memory.

“No! It’s the forfeit.” Kuroo has no idea what he’s talking about and decides almost immediately it’s not even important so long as he keeps talking in that bashful tone of voice. He can practically hear the blush.

“Forfeit? What forfeit?” Whoever decided to use his kit as some kind of cruel punishment for Sawamura is his new favourite person.

“For losing the most matches…” Sawamura hedges, more uncertain as every second passes. Kuroo nods along in complete incomprehension. “It’s tradition?”

“Ah-huh.” Kuroo continues nodding slowly as he tries to think of an answer to that. Because there is no such tradition, unless, like the Captains meetings, he’s just failed to participate up until now. He swallows. “And you chose my kit?” If Sawamura chose Kuroo’s kit with his own hands Kuroo might just die on the spot.

“What? No. It had to be yours because Nekoma won the most games today.”

“Ah.” Not true at all, Fukurodani had won the most matches. “Who told you that?” Bokuto’s bizarre list of well wishes suddenly makes sense and Kuroo knows the answer before Sawamura speaks it.

“Bokuto, Suga and Akaashi.” Admittedly Akaashi is a surprise, but probably the one that sold Sawamura in the end; he’s so sensible after all.

“Ah.” A grin works its way onto Kuroo’s face. He’s overwhelmed. This room is too small and those shorts are definitely too small and Sawamura is stood before him, eyes growing wider by the second as he realises all on his own.

“We’ve been set up.” He wheezes, arm flying out to lean onto a locker close to him. Kuroo nods numbly, eyes never leaving Sawamura’s face. “Oh. This is _so_ embarrassing.” Sawamura pants into his own shoulder. “I’m sorry! Damn. How awkward. I’ll get changed.” Kuroo openly whimpers, the sound startling them both.

“Don’t do that!” He yells, stepping back a little. There’s no way he would survive such a situation.

“ _I’m in your kit._ ” Sawamura sounds completely harassed. And it’s that voice, the way he sounds so very raw in this tiny room filled with just the two of them, so red he blends in with the kit he’s stood in, that sends Kuroo over the edge. Another whimper escapes him as he tries to stagger backwards, but it’s too late. Sweat pants are really the worst things to ever be invented. Sawamura’s eyes flick down, widening slightly before locking onto Kuroo’s.

“Ah.” Why didn’t Yamamoto bury him earlier? What a completely useless guy he turned out to be. The backs of Kuroo’s knees knock into the bench behind him and he’s pushed down firmly with urgent fingers that skip their way from his shoulders up to the sides of his face, angling it upwards.

“Kuroo.” Sawamura sounds as broken and mangled as Kuroo feels, his voice pleading and desperate. Sawamura leans down and it’s Kuroo this time who has to tip himself up to reach Sawamura’s waiting lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. So this chapter might just be a poorly veiled excuse to get Daichi in Captain Kitty Cat's kit (literally) but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on comments on the last chapter I think people were expecting HOT PASSION. Which was kind of my intention, but it turns out I'm useless & this is all kinds of awkward & gross instead... I'm very sorry. (˵•́ ‸ •̀˵)

Something is wrong. Sawamura can feel it. Under the surface of his skin, wedged like an itch that’s impossible to scratch. Suga and Asahi often tease him, telling him it’s his ‘dad-sense’, but that’s just because usually Tanaka and Noya are the cause of the wrong. Tanaka and Noya are nowhere in sight. Admittedly this is a worrying sign, but it doesn’t _feel_ like a Tanaka and Noya related wrong.

A quick glace around the room lets him know that Yamamoto also isn’t here. When have the troublesome-duo-turned-trio ever been late for a meal? In fact, Sawamura realises, Suga and Asahi aren’t here yet either. The other second years are already eating, as are Yamaguchi and Tsukishima, albeit at different tables, and Shimizu and Yachi have joined the managers from the other teams for dinner. Sawamura watches as Kageyama finishes collecting his food and surveys the canteen with a mild sense of panic. Since his fallout with Hinata the two haven’t been eating together and it hurts Sawamura to see his junior looking so lost; it doesn’t say much about his role as their Captain if after all this time Kageyama feels he only has one friend he can sit with. He moves forward, getting ready to pat Kageyama’s shoulder and coax him into eating with him when Yamaguchi waves his arm into the air.

“Kageyama! I saved you a seat!” The panic melts off of Kageyama’s face and is replaced with a much softer emotion. He watches, slightly fascinated, as Kageyama joins his fellow first years and Tsukishima doesn’t make a single protest. Yamaguchi sweeps his hair from his eyes, smiling proudly. Ah, Sawamura realises, he possesses the same powers as Suga.

A mop of frazzled ginger pokes its head into the canteen, eyes scanning the room carefully before bouncing back outside. Sawamura recognises the jittery way Hinata is fidgeting his fingers; he’s nervous. And clearly waiting for someone. Kenma and Kuroo are late too, he notes, Bokuto and Akaashi also noticeably absent. Sawamura checks his phone. It’s over ten minutes passed dinner time. Where is everyone? Something is definitely wrong.

Three minutes later, Sawamura has gathered his food and seated himself at an empty table. Coincidentally it allows him a perfect view of the main door, so he sees a slightly pink in the face Suga the moment he bustles into the room. He heads straight for food, saluting Sawamura on his way passed.

“What’s up?” He asks, smiling serenely across from Sawamura moments later.

“The troublesome trio have gone AWOL.” Suga looks around.

“Huh,” he comments, seemingly unaffected. “So they have. Asahi too?” Sawamura nods. “Then they can’t be doing anything _too_ bad.” Suga knows just as well as Sawamura how easy Asahi is to hoodwink into bad ideas, and that’s excluding the fact that he’s missing with Noya; he’d give Noya the world if he were to ask for it. Maybe Noya’s too pre-occupied with fighting the world for Asahi to realise this though.

“I suppose you’re right.” Suga nods once, snapping his chopsticks apart and humming happily to himself. "But, Kuroo, Kenma, Akaashi and Bokuto are also late…”

“Ah!” Suga looks around the room again. “So they are.” He stares across the table at Sawamura, swallowing his food slowly. “And you think they’re all together?” Sawamura shrugs. It’s not impossible. "Kit-Cat has probably gone to get some ice cream to help him cool off. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Ice cream?”

“Yep. He mentioned something about a Neapolitan ice cream, you should definitely ask him about that.” Sawamura narrows his eyes suspiciously. It’s always a coin toss between whether Suga is being angelic or devious, and at any given moment he’s been known to switch from one to the other without warning.

“I should ask Kuroo… about Neapolitan ice cream… specifically?” To his credit Suga’s face gives nothing away.

“Or a banana split. He seemed undecided on what he was going to get and I’m curious.” Even if he tells Suga to ask Kuroo about it himself it’s going to play on his mind now. And Suga _knows_ this. He shakes his head, sighing.

“Fine, fine, I’ll let you know.” He concedes, not missing the little snicker that slips out of Suga’s mouth. It’s probably something he’s going to regret asking about after all. Suga’s phone lights up on the table top. He always has his phone on silent so the flashing screen could mean any number of things: a text, a phone call, an e-mail from his local take out with a coupon code, and Suga always ignores it when he’s eating. So Sawamura is briefly taken aback when Suga glances at it, a smile unravelling on his face, and places his chopsticks down. He picks up the phone, peeking at Sawamura apologetically and answers the call.

“Akaashi-kun.” Sawamura rolls his eyes. The only way he could be more transparent would be if he started to walk around wearing a t-shirt with  _I Heart_ _Akaashi-kun_ emblazoned across the front. “Ah. I understand.” Suga ends the call and stares at him thoughtfully. Sawamura raises an eyebrow. “Akaashi-kun and Bokuto are on their way. Oh! Let’s get their food for them! That’s cute!” He jolts from his side of the table, yanking Sawamura by the forearm into following him.

“Can they not get their own food?” Sawamura is dying to know what’s going on, can tell that something’s happened from the way Suga is chewing on his thumb nail, mind far away. But Suga is the type of person to smile teasingly and dodge answers if he thinks you’re too interested.

“Of course, but then they might not choose to sit with us.” A slim chance that would happen considering Akaashi had gone out of his way to phone Suga. Behind them a loud caw echoes into the room. Sawamura would recognise that sound anywhere; Noya has arrived. He turns around ready to berate him, mostly as an excuse to find out where he’s been, when Suga’s fist clenches tightly around his wrist. He stares up at Sawamura clearly dismayed.

“What’s going on?” Tanaka and Yamamoto are making some kind of a fuss, and he’s definitely not imagining Asahi’s nervous voice being there too, but it takes a person of much stronger willpower than Sawamura’s to look away from a distressed Suga.

“I don’t really know what food Akaashi-kun likes!” Suga’s bottom lip juts out dramatically, and Sawamura thinks he might just be half-faking it. The feeling of wrongness from before flares inside his stomach; Suga _knows_ something. “We’ll just have to get a bunch of options!” He adds hastily, moving with sudden surety as he grabs plate after plate and hands them off to Sawamura.

Suga engages the server in some kind of bargain about making a dish half of one omelette and half of another – _I don’t even know if he’s a vegetarian!_ – and Sawamura’s curiosity wins out. He looks over his shoulder to where the troublesome trio featuring Asahi made their noisy entrance. His eyes widen. They’re with Akaashi and Bokuto. The latter has Yamamoto in a firm headlock, tucking him tightly under his chin, as his other hand tugs at the back of Tanaka’s collar, keeping him in place. Akaashi is rubbing his temples as he explains something, clearly not for the first time, Noya looking at him with delighted interest and Asahi nodding feebly. Suga clicks his fingers impatiently in front of his face.

“Daichi! Do you think Akaashi-kun is more of an apple or pear person?”

“I don’t know, ask him yourself.” He stares pointedly over to the door where Akaashi seems to be giving some final instructions because Bokuto is slowly relinquishing his hold on Yamamoto and Tanaka. Suga blinks, a small sigh of relief puffing into the air when he sees the six in conference.

“Let’s just bring both. I’ll eat what he doesn’t want.” He decides, taking both fruits and a handful of cutlery and leaving Sawamura to follow after him juggling five plates and two bowls. He gets back to the table after Bokuto and Akaashi have already made themselves comfy either side of Suga. All three of them are wearing matching fake smiles; Bokuto’s is particularly frightening.

“What’s going on?”

“Dinner!” Bokuto’s answer is too energetic and he ends up breaking the end off of one chopstick as he tries to snap them apart. He laughs to himself, filling his mouth up at a rapid pace. Even so Sawamura notices Yamamoto and Tanaka creeping passed, averting their gaze. Completely ignoring him is the wrong way to pretend nothing’s wrong. And isn’t that-

“Why do you have a shovel?” Yamamoto stares down at the tool as if it’s materialised into his hands just then. Tanaka, more used to the frightening aura Sawamura’s emitting, only takes a couple of seconds to shake himself into responding.

“Tora’s an avid gardener.” He knocks his friend’s shoulder playfully. “It’s sugar snap season!” Sawamura has no idea if it’s sugar snap season, and if it is why Tanaka knows such a thing, but even so-

“So he decided to plant them here? At Shinzen?”

“It’s an offering of thanks to our hosts.” Yamamoto looks up from his shovel slightly dazed. “I often forget to put my tools down.” Often, as in never once before in all the time Sawamura’s known him. Maybe it's best if he doesn't know the real reason. Being an accessory to a crime doesn't sound too fun.

“Well... I’m happy to see you have interests outside of volleyball.” It’s more than he can say for most of Karasuno, himself included, unless a rival captain’s bed hair can be counted as an interest. He _is_ interested in it in a strictly outside of volleyball sense. Tanaka coughs.

“So, we’ll be getting dinner now!”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” He waves them off as they scurry to collect their food, Yamamoto cradling the shovel under one arm. “We should get him to plant something at Sendai.” He tells Suga, who is watching him with a guarded expression.

“You’ll have to remind him to bring his shovel when he visits then.” Bokuto chokes on his food, grabbing Sawamura’s water and chugging it down as he thumps his chest.

“Sorry, I’ll get you another one.” He slides off the bench. For some reason Sawamura gets the feeling he was looking for an excuse to escape. It’s as he’s watching Bokuto’s retreating back that he notices Hinata. He’s perched on his tip-toes and collecting at least a dozen different plates, aided by Noya who keeps ruffling his hair, and a methodical Asahi who is stacking the plates in a precise manner so as to avoid squashing any of the food. From this distance it’s hard to be certain but he thinks Asahi is using chopsticks to create little platforms.

“Where are Kuroo and Kenma?” Something must have happened to Kuroo. It’s the only reasonable explanation for the wrong feeling in his gut and the bizarre behaviour everyone’s exhibiting around him.

“He’s getting changed.” Akaashi’s poker face rivals Suga’s for the best he’s ever seen.

“Before dinner?” Has he ever done that before?

“He had to.”

“Because?”

“Because you need his kit for the forfeit!” Bokuto plops down two glasses heavy handed, the water waving back and forth and threatening to spill over the edges. Sawamura, Sugawara and Akaashi all look up at him expectantly.

“What?”

“Uhm. No one told you?” Bokuto wipes the back of his hand across his forehead, as if maybe they’ll be fooled into thinking his red face is from being over-heated.

“No one told me what?”

“There’s a tradition.” Sawamura turns his attention to Akaashi; Bokuto flopping himself back in his seat, obviously grateful that Akaashi has come to his rescue.

“What kind of tradition?”

“That the captain of the team with the most losses wears the captain of the team with the most wins kit.” Akaashi shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “We take a photo.” Suga gives out a delighted giggle.

“You _have_ to do it Daichi!” He wiggles his eyebrows at him from across the table. “It’s tradition!”

“Didn’t Fukurodani win the most matches?” That’s what Shimizu had told him, right?

“You think we’d lie?” Akaashi’s head tips to the side ever so slightly. “Or miscalculate?”

“Ohoho, I think he just wants to wear my kit.” Bokuto stage whispers at the other two. “I can’t really blame him, Fukurodani's kit _is_ the most excellent!”

“It’s just a photo Daichi!”

“You don’t have to do it.” Akaashi shrugs again. “You guys aren’t officially part of the Fukurodani Academy Group, we just wanted to include you.” Suga hums.

“Who came second to last then?” Akaashi seems to consider Suga’s question for a moment. A small smile flits across his face. If Sawamura didn’t know better he’d think he was smiling at more than just Suga.

“That would be us.” He blinks innocently at Sawamura. “If you don’t want to wear Kuroo-san’s kit it’s no problem: Bokuto-san will wear it instead.” Sawamura swallows, his mind conjuring up that image for him. He doesn’t like it one bit. Even though he knows Kuroo has no interest in Bokuto romantically, it doesn’t mean he wants to see him in Kuroo’s kit. Even if he backs out, clearly Kuroo’s going ahead with it, and he would have known, right? If it’s tradition he’d have known all day that Sawamura would end up in the winner’s kit. He remembers how Kuroo had played today, presence on the court much heavier than it had ever been before. What if all along he’d been trying harder to finish first because if Sawamura was going to end up in someone else’s kit then he wanted it to be his?

“It would be rude of you to say no,” Suga points out, “Kit-Cat’s already taking his kit off for you.” Bokuto chokes on his food again, thankfully grabbing his own glass to save himself this time. Sawamura stares at the three of them. The way they’ve sat feels a little bit like he’s in front of a judging panel.

“Fine, fine.” He consents, blush creeping onto his face. “We’ll do it after dinner.” Akaashi nods once, satisfied. Suga smiles so wide he practically glows and Bokuto makes a strange chirping sound, staring at Sawamura as if the reality of the situation has just occurred to him.

“Excellent.”

* * * *

“We’ve been set up.” Sawamura wheezes, arm holding onto the nearest locker to stop him from tumbling over. He should have known. He _knows_ he should have known. The look of glee Suga was wearing should have been an instant giveaway. The way Bokuto had kept squirming nervously before announcing he needed the toilet and disappearing, leaving Suga and Akaashi to direct him like a reluctant model should have been a huge red flag. The fact that they didn’t bump into Kuroo at all, Bokuto producing his kit out of thin air and Akaashi rolling his eyes – _he’s gone to eat now, obviously_ – would have caused him to pause and re-asses his life decisions in any other situation. He should have known. Part of him probably did know. But a bigger part of him was holding onto the idea that Kuroo had won today for him.

“Oh. This is _so_ embarrassing.” Not just this moment, which is mortifying, but how easily he was manipulated because of his own weird desire. “I’m sorry! Damn. How awkward. I’ll get changed.” A whimper leaves the back of Kuroo’s throat.

“Don’t do that!” Kuroo yells, voice echoing slightly off the tiled walls. He retreats away from Sawamura with his arms held in front of him protectively.

“ _I’m in your kit_.” Sawamura is finding it exceedingly difficult to look at Kuroo. How can he not understand the implications of this situation? How can he stare at Sawamura, fixated on his face instead of his outfit? If Sawamura ever found Kuroo in his kit he’s willing to bet his attention would be elsewhere. Kuroo whimpers again, hands falling in front of himself to shield in a different way and Sawamura’s mouth goes dry. Sweat pants are his new favourite invention. His eyes snap up, locking onto Kuroo’s with sudden certainty.  
  
“Ah.” Kuroo stares at him hysterically. So what if he’s straight. So what if he’s confused. So what if he’s oblivious to how his red and panting face affects him. Sugawara had told him to be more direct, and really what’s more direct than pressing Kuroo onto the bench behind him? Kuroo quivers under his fingertips, shaky breath after shaky breath tumbling out of his mouth. He coaxes his face upwards, wetting his lips.

“Kuroo.” You’ve won, he wants to say, I surrender. I’m not strong enough to keep fighting against this. Even if it ruins our friendship. He gulps, hovering centimetres above Kuroo. Maybe he could pull away now. It would be too painful for him to lose Kuroo as a friend after all. Before the thought has formed properly in his mind, he feels Kuroo twitch underneath him. His fingers grab onto the front of Sawamura’s shirt desperately, body straining up, and he closes the gap between them all on his own.

* * * *

“It’s okay.” Sawamura whispers above him, peppering Kuroo’s face with tiny kisses. “It’s okay.” His lips ghost across his nose, under each eye, the corner of his mouth, all the way along his left eyebrow.

“It’s okay.” He plants kisses under his jaw, behind his ear, tongue flicking out to skim across his lobe. Embarrassing whimpers and huffs of air escape Kuroo with every new touch. Sawamura’s hands have taken purchase behind his neck, fingers dipping below his t-shirt and digging into the top of his back. His thighs rest on his own, knees either side on the bench next to him, caging him in.

“It’s okay.” Kuroo’s clinging onto the front of Sawamura’s top, _his_ top, grip so tight his knuckles are turning white. He’s drowning in Sawamura and it’s possible he’s never been happier. Sawamura’s nose bumps into his, nuzzling him affectionately. He rests his forehead on Kuroo’s, breathing in deeply.

“It’s okay.” He shifts above him, readjusting his weight and leaning back to look at Kuroo. His fingers trace a path up from his t-shirt and pause at his collar bone, thumb stroking the dip there. His eyes are darker than Kuroo has ever seen before and in the hush that follows Kuroo realises how soft and relaxed Sawamura looks. Kuroo’s eyes travel slowly down, collecting the definition of his biceps, the stretch of his shirt where his fists are still clenched. He relaxes his grip slightly, gulping when his gaze falls on Sawamura’s shorts, on _his_ shorts, and the way they’re pulled tight in much the same way as his sweat pants are. It’s enough to make his insides explode.

“I’m _so_ gay.” Kuroo sounds positively wrecked, but Sawamura doesn’t seem to mind, a breath of a laugh falling happily from his lips.

“Yeah,” he agrees contentedly. “Me too.” He ducks down to press his lips firmly against Kuroo’s. Kuroo feels himself melt, feels the kiss drop away into something much softer. Sawamura’s tongue licks gently at his lips and he doesn’t need to ask twice; Kuroo opens his mouth greedily. The sensation of Sawamura’s tongue moving against his feels like coming home. This kiss is different to all the other ones they’ve shared. He can _feel_ the emotion burning off of Sawamura, rolling off of his body in steady waves, making it a little impossible for him to breathe.

“Shit.” Kuroo doesn’t know how to process everything that he’s feeling, doesn’t know how to correctly articulate it back, but Sawamura seems to understand anyway.

“It’s okay.” He repeats, much, much softer than before, voice cradling Kuroo as if he is something small and fragile. His thumb moves up to his cheek, catching a tear, the ironic role reversal of this action not lost on Kuroo. He didn’t even realise he was crying. “I’ve got you Kitty Cat.” He breathes over his lips. In one warm swipe of his tongue he collects Kuroo’s tears, kissing just under his eye to punctuate the action.

“Shit.” Kuroo whimpers, face falling forwards into the crook of Sawamura’s neck as soon as he leans away. It’s easier like this, with his face hidden from view and his eyes squeezed shut. “I like you.” He confesses, drinking in the growl that vibrates through Sawamura. “I like you so much.” It hurts. It physically pains him trying to contain this emotion.

“I like you.” Sawamura responds easily, the clarity of his voice making Kuroo wonder if he’s answering at all or just repeating what Kuroo said to make sure he heard correctly. He extracts himself from the nook under Sawamura’s neck, blinking at him. “Kuroo.” Kuroo gulps. Sawamura smiles, the blush that had almost faded away exploding back in full force. “I like you too.”

“ _Oh_.” Kuroo finally lets go of Sawamura’s top, hiding his face with his hands. “This is really embarrassing.” He feels Sawamura chuckle.

“You’re so cute.” He tells him matter-of-factly. Kuroo moans, angling his face away. Sawamura’s insistent fingers pick at the edges of his own, trying in vain to claw his way in. “Don’t be stingy. I want to see your face.” Kuroo peeks out between his fingers in time to see the evil glint in Sawamura’s eye as he laps at his hands, wiggling his tongue in the gaps of his fingers until Kuroo rips his hands away from his face confused about if he’s disgusted or aroused. “Much better.” Sawamura hums.

“Gross. Licking kink.” Kuroo accuses with no real bite. Sawamura laughs, a light happy sound that does funny things to Kuroo’s insides. He cocks his head to the side.

“Hey,” Sawamura lifts Kuroo’s chin with a finger, eyebrows coming together worriedly, “is your nose bleeding?”

“Ah!” Kuroo automatically lifts a hand to his left nostril. Sure enough instead of finding the tissue Kenma had helped him stuff up there his fingers meet a warm wetness. “Shit.”

“Are you some kind of anime pervert?” Sawamura laughs again, shaking his head. In one push he is off of Kuroo’s lap, the loss of his warmth so unexpected that Kuroo shivers. He returns seconds later, a wad of toilet tissue in his hand. Tenderly he cups under Kuroo’s jaw with one hand as he presses the tissue under his nose with the other.

“I thought it stopped.” Kuroo admits, silently cursing his body for ruining the moment.

“It was bleeding before?” Kuroo nods, eyes locked onto Sawamura’s. Who knew that having someone fret over you felt so good?

“I received one of Azumane’s spikes with my face.” He winces at the memory.

“Huh? Asahi? He hit you in the face?”

“Mhm. It was my fault. I ran onto the court without looking.” Sawamura frowns at him, chewing on his bottom lip.

“I knew something had happened.” He mutters to himself. “How did you make Captain if you’re still bursting onto courts unthinkingly?” Sawamura tuts, removing the tissue to inspect it. Even though Kuroo’s being scolded the warm feeling inside won’t stop bubbling up; Sawamura’s worried about him. He’d take another ten of Azumane’s spikes to the face to be pampered like this again.

“I was just excited.” He beams up at him, watching the way Sawamura’s fingers roll the tissue up expertly. Obviously this isn’t the first time he’s plugged a nosebleed.

“Oh yeah?” Sawamura raises an eyebrow, focus still on the plug he’s making for Kuroo’s nose. “What about?”

“Suga told me you guys aren’t dating.” Sawamura pauses completely. It’s almost amazing how still he becomes, only his eyes moving from the tissue in his hands to regard Kuroo’s face. He’s always been clever and it takes him half the time it took Suga to suck in a ragged breath, mouth dropping open.

“No!”

“Yeah.” Kuroo admits sheepishly, plucking the tissue from Sawamura to wedge up his nose. “Understandably I was pretty happy.”

“You thought that this whole time, this _whole_ time, I was with Suga?” Kuroo hums, probably enjoying the look of pure shock on Sawamura’s face more than he should. “Even at your house?”

“Especially at my house.”

“Even when I _kissed_ you?”

“Admittedly that confused me a bit.”

“A bit.” Sawamura echoes, bewildered by Kuroo’s stupidity.

“I really, _really_ wanted it to be a mistake though. I really, really wanted you guys to not be dating.”

“We’re not dating!” The look of disturbed shock on Sawamura’s face is almost exactly like the one Suga had worn.

“I know that now.” Kuroo smiles, gesturing with one hand to his nose. Sawamura clicks his tongue.

“You’re the dumbest person I know.”

“Maybe,” Kuroo agrees with a teasing lilt, “but you _like_ me!” He’s feeling pretty smug about the whole situation and it’s taking more effort than he’s capable of exhibiting not to run around triumphantly screaming at everyone that Sawamura, Sawamura Daichi, _likes_ him. _Can you believe it?_ Body-Crafted-By-Angels-Themselves-Sawamura has a crush on The-Dumbest-Person-He-Knows-Kuroo. He’d probably cry if he hadn’t already done so. Sawamura ruffles his hair gently.

“Yeah. And you like me.” It’s simple. It’s easy. It’s embarrassing as hell. “I’ll walk you back to your room.” Sawamura takes a hold of his arm; his touch feather light and warm. Kuroo pouts. If he had it his way they’d stay in these changing rooms for the rest of their lives. Bokuto knows they’re here so could visit at regular intervals with food and water.

“Don’t wanna.” He resists for a good ten seconds, finally huffing himself into standing when he thinks Sawamura might leave without him. He’d almost forgotten how short Sawamura was compared to him. About four inches. If he stood on his tip toes he could definitely rest his head on top of Sawamura’s; at his next available opportunity he knows he'll be doing just that.

“You need to rest,” Sawamura is telling him, dad-mode fully activated, “and drink lots of water. If your head hurts tomorrow, I’ll take you to see the nurse.” He guides Kuroo outside, the tug on his arm comforting. Just before they exit the gym Kuroo halts to a stop.

“Wait!” Sawamura does wait, turning to look over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. He looks slightly apprehensive, maybe wondering if Kuroo thinks once they leave the gym the magic will disappear. It almost looks like he has a list of reassurances prepared in case Captain Scaredy Cat makes an unwanted appearance. Not going to happen. He rummages for a second in his pocket, finding his phone, and holds it up gleefully. “You have to let me take a photo!” For reasons, it’s vitally important that Kuroo has a photo of Sawamura dressed in his kit. Sawamura groans, his fingers gripping Kuroo’s arm a little tighter and a blush starting to bloom from his ears.

“No way.” His voice is firm, no room for an argument, and he drags Kuroo outside. “Besides,” he admits somewhat reluctantly, “Akaashi already has about twenty.” Kuroo cackles victoriously, throwing his arm over Sawamura’s shoulders and tugging him close. It’s dark outside as they make their way back to their dorms, but Kuroo sees the content smile resting along Sawamura’s lips. Still, it's dark enough and they're alone enough that when he leans over to catch it with his lips, no one except the stars notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AS ALWAYS THANKS FOR ALL YOUR SUPPORT & PRAISE !! °˖ ✧◝(○^ ヮ ^○)◜✧˖ ° !!
> 
> Your comments always make me smile & as I'm naturally such a snail of a writer they really help spur me on. Thanks again ~ you're all beautiful. ♡


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things I learnt when editing this chapter:  
> \- North Americans spell yoghurt without the 'h'...  
> \- That's it.  
> \- I just wanted to let you know that I know that it doesn't have a 'h' for you, but I kept it in there (h's make up ⅓ of my name I have to be loyal).

In a dream world Kuroo would wake up early the next morning feeling as carefree and energised as a spring lamb. By some happy miracle his favourite breakfast would be waiting for him downstairs, his hair would suddenly start abiding by the laws of gravity and every single person he saw all day long would high-five him for managing to trick Sawamura, _Sawamura Daichi_ , into trading saliva with him.

Instead, Kuroo is woken up by a pair of cold, bony fingers pinching his nose to cut off his air supply. He splutters a few times, eyes wincing against the harsh light of the room and toes curling, looking for warmth. Someone evil has stolen his blanket. The fingers disappear from his nose, Kenma’s face moving into view.

“You slept in late.” He announces, seemingly happy about the situation. Kuroo groans, pressing his face firmly into his pillow and directly into a puddle of his own drool. Wonderful. His head hurts. But more than that, his legs hurt. Even if the full-day workout he’d put himself through yesterday had managed to skip his mind, his body clearly remembers. Kenma scoots closer, digging his knuckles into the skin behind his ears. “Get up.” Kuroo can hear the giggle in Kenma’s voice. He rolls himself back onto his knees. It takes a lot longer than it realistically should. He glares at Kenma’s happy little face.

“What are you smiling about?” He doesn’t mean for it to sound like an accusation, is genuinely curious, but his voice croaks horribly and his eyes are still trying to adjust to the light.

“I’m glad you’re back.” Kenma hums, crawling around on his hands and knees to collect his blanket. He hands two ends to Kuroo, holding the other two ends in his own hands and folds the blanket down the middle.

“I didn’t go anywhere?” Did he? Kuroo’s brain is slow to start in the mornings, but he doesn’t remember going anywhere. He did used to sleep walk as a kid, hasn’t done for years though. It _does_ seem like something that would happen to him, his dormant sleep-walking awakening during a mixed training camp.

“I had to wake you up.” Kenma shrugs, throwing his now folded blanket onto the floor. “Recently you’ve been waking up on your own.” He drags his futon about a foot towards the stack against the wall before huffing out a breath that blows his hair around and fixing Kuroo with a pleading look. Kuroo jumps up, ignoring the cry of protest his legs give, and takes Kenma’s futon for him. Kenma watches Kuroo carefully as he collects his own futon to throw on top of Kenma’s. “The Captain’s Meeting went well then?”

“Ah.” Kuroo’s face contorts four different ways, as if it can’t decide what expression to pull. He rubs at the corners of his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah really well.”

“You only wake up by yourself if you’re nervous.” Kenma points out, throwing their pillows onto the pile in the corner. Yaku would probably find their job unsatisfactory, but he’s not here right now. In fact nobody else is left. Kenma was right, Kuroo has woken up late. No later than usual, but later than he has been waking up these past couple of weeks.

“Huh.” He wakes early on tournament days and test days and limited edition days and up until now he’d always assumed his body was waking him up because those were Important days, not because of nerves. Trust Kenma to know him better than he knows himself. He rolls his eyes, grabbing Kenma’s wrist. “C’mon then Pudding Head, let’s get breakfast.”

Kenma’s smile falters as they’re walking down the corridor, slipping into a thoughtful little frown and blinking up at Kuroo curiously. Kuroo knows this look: Kenma has a problem but he’s not sure Kuroo will be able to help. He rumples Kenma’s hair at the back of his head, letting him know he’s here without prodding. Kenma doesn’t like to be prodded. It’s unfair how his hair is at least twice the length of Kuroo’s but somehow naturally falls around his face all smooth and swishy. Only a tangle or two that are easy enough to comb out with his fingers.

“If we ever had a fight, would you want someone to help?” Kenma’s eyes are round and sincere, so Kuroo gives the question the appropriate thinking time. They’ve never had an actual fight before. Sometimes, especially when they were younger, Kuroo pokes one time too many and Kenma will clam up into his head, cheeks puffing out to indicate his vow of silence. And sometimes when they play fight someone accidentally gets a toe in an eye or a finger up a nose. But those are things they rectify immediately after. Since they met Kuroo has never gone to bed without Kenma being his best friend. Has never woken up angry at him. Even when Kenma wanted to quit volleyball they didn’t fight about it; Kuroo just relentlessly pestered him and, because at heart Kenma is nothing but a big softie who likes making his friends happy, eventually he caved.

“What are we fighting about?”

“Volleyball I guess.” Kenma half shrugs his shoulders, speaking slowly.

“Why are we fighting about volleyball?” Ever since Kenma decided to keep playing for Kuroo they reached a mutual agreement that Kenma would play until he got tired. Which of course means he plays the bare minimum. Kuroo knows he badgers him to play more, to try harder, and knows Lev does, but he’d stop if he thought it was actually upsetting Kenma in any way. Would punch Lev on the nose too.

“I don’t know,” admits Kenma a little quieter, pausing in his steps just outside of the canteen, “I won’t give you the tosses you want or something.” He shuffles his hair in front of his face to make the blush creeping across his cheeks harder to see. Kuroo follows his line of sight. The shrimp is enthusiastically stuffing his face, one hand shovelling rice as the other reaches out for bread. Tanaka is next to him, poking the bread just out of his reach every time he gets close, water spraying out of his mouth whenever he laughs.

It takes him a moment to find Kageyama, sat next to Freckles and nodding along attentively to whatever he’s saying. Huh. Now that he thinks about it, it is kind of weird how they’re not together. And Kageyama had stormed passed them with a face like thunder yesterday. Not to mention how out of sync they were in their practice matches. Kuroo might not be a genius, but even he can put two and two together.

“Dark and stormy won’t send your little ball of sunshine the right tosses?” Kenma tucks in his chin, more hair tumbling over his face.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” Kuroo pats him on the head gently. “I’m not sure there’s anything anyone can do. It’s the kind of problem they have to work through on their own.” Nobody else can receive Kageyama’s tosses like the shrimp can and nobody else can toss to the shrimp like Kageyama can. “I’m surprised you’re so concerned though.” Kenma doesn’t usually involve himself in other people’s problems, let alone go out of his way to look for a solution.

“Mhm,” Kenma steps a little closer to Kuroo, lowering his voice. “I don’t like seeing Shouyou sad.” Kuroo laughs.

“You’re so cute! Anyone else would be secretly happy.” Kenma frowns up at him.

“Why?”

“Huh, oh you know.” Kuroo waves his hand in between them. Then again this is Kenma, maybe he doesn’t know. “You and Kageyama are kind of similar. Genius setters. A little quiet. Attracted to orange balls of unexpectedly loud fluff.”

“I’m not a genius.” Kuroo disagrees with him on that; if Kenma ever decided to get serious he’d be unstoppable.

“But you get what I’m saying? If they’re fighting it’s like your biggest competition has eliminated himself.” Kenma tries to glare at him, but the smile curling up on one side of his mouth ruins the effect.

“Shouyou likes small things.” He says simply. “I am similar to Kageyama, that’s why I feel bad that they’re fighting.” Kuroo stares at him silently. Kenma sighs before continuing. “I don’t think Shouyou is to Kageyama what Shouyou is to me. I think Shouyou is to Kageyama what _you_ are to me. I think maybe he’s his first friend. People have probably always left him.” He mumbles the last part, looking away from Kuroo.

“Kenma!” Kuroo wails, falling forwards and scooping him up into a hug. He squeezes him very tightly. His tiny, precious friend who spends his free time worrying about some kid he’s probably never even spoken to.

“You’re going to suffocate me.” Kenma’s feet kick him lightly in the shins as he tries to escape.

“You’re the cutest person, you know that?” He places Kenma back onto the ground, beaming at him. “But this is something you have to let them sort through on their own. It’s volleyball. So long as they practice hard they’ll get it.” Kenma smiles at that, nodding slowly.

“Thanks Kuroo.” Kenma reaches up to pinch Kuroo’s nose, chuckling to himself before pushing Kuroo along to finally get breakfast. “If we don’t hurry, there’ll be nothing left.”

* * * *

Over the last few months, the one thing Sawamura has gotten really good at is being patient. When he became the Captain of Karasuno he already knew how much of a handful Tanaka and Noya are, and how much coaxing Asahi needs, but since the four first years have joined their flock he’s really had his work cut out for him. At first all it took was Hinata and Kageyama’s loud roars as they bickered over who won the race to the club room that morning to give him a headache.

Now however, he thinks he’s better. It usually takes until afternoon practice before his patience quota is used up and he gives Suga or Ennoshita  _The Look_ in order to get them to shuffle everyone into shape. On a really good day, providing he remembers to take a deep breath and count to five in his head, he can survive without needing help. All this unconscious training has clearly been leading him up for The Main Event: not rushing out to find Kuroo the moment he wakes up.

He can be patient. He can go through the motions of his Captain duties and make sure everyone is awake, all twelve heads present and accounted for. He can remember to message Shizumi to make sure her and Yachi are also awake. He can kick Tanaka off of his futon so they can clear it up properly, even if he secretly agrees with him that it’s more practical to leave them all out. This is about discipline. And Sawamura’s very disciplined. Kuroo’s probably doing the same after all, being a Captain too.

“I didn’t know you liked your food so spicy?” Suga teases opposite him at the table. In a sick déjà vu-esque scenario he accidentally sat down at the same table as yesterday. Nothing blocks his view from the main doors. He’ll be able see Kuroo the moment he makes his way to breakfast. Was he always this late to meals? Last camp hadn’t he been one of the first to arrive? Sawamura frowns. When exactly had he become a borderline creepy stalker?

“What?” Sawamura blinks Suga back into focus.

“You okay Daichi?” Asahi asks worriedly, uneasy expression already deep-set on his face. Suga gestures at Sawamura’s bowl, where he’s apparently spooned at least seven scoops of chili on top of his soup.

“Oh. Just trying to fire myself up!” He inwardly cringes, that was definitely a line out of the troublesome trio’s playbook. He ignores Suga’s questioning look and takes a mouthful. He really doesn’t like spicy food all that much. His mouth burns, tongue already on fire, and tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, but he swallows it down. Before anyone can say anything else he shovels in some more defiantly. Maybe if he eats the chili concentrated section rapidly the bottom won’t be as bad. He’s so focused on pretending this is not only a perfectly fine breakfast, but also exactly what he intended that he misses Kuroo’s arrival. At the back of his mind he hears his mum telling him something about a watched pot never boiling. Ironic really as his mouth has now passed boiling point and entered hell-fire. Asahi ends up being the one who alerts him to Kuroo’s appearance.

“Oh no,” he blubbers, bringing his hands up to cradle his head. “ _I ruined his face_!”

“It’s a light bruise,” Suga reassures immediately, without even turning around. Sawamura is always impressed, if a little unnerved, by how Suga just _knows_ things. “It will be gone before the end of the week. And! It was an accident!” He stands up, his own breakfast already finished. “Besides, I’m sure Daichi will kiss it better from the both of you.” He manages to wink and dodge the bits of bread Sawamura chucks at his head at the same time, skipping away happily, presumably to bother someone else. Asahi nudges an unopened yoghurt pot at him.

“You can stop forcing yourself to eat that now.” He mumbles. “I won’t tell Suga.” Sawamura sighs.

“He already knows.” He pushes his bowl to the side, appetite weirdly gone, and picks at the label on the yoghurt. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Kuroo being hijacked into sitting with Bokuto. He seems to put up a bit of a fight before caving in, his hand running through his hair. Sawamura drums his fingers on the top of the yoghurt lid. Damn, _his hair_. Kuroo looks over and smiles, obviously pleased about something and face a pretty shade of pink where it isn’t bruising yellowish. Sawamura returns the smile. He can be patient. He can wait until a moment naturally presents itself for him to talk to Kuroo. Preferably without so many people around.

“Daichi?” Sawamura flicks his gaze back to Asahi. “Uhm, you sure you’re okay?” He chews on his lip, staring with great concern at Sawamura’s hands. He glances down. He’s speared a spoon straight through the yoghurt pot lid.

“Just saving some time.” He supplies automatically, wiggling his spoon out and eating the yoghurt. Asahi doesn’t need to say anything for Sawamura to know he doesn’t believe him. Kuroo’s laugh trickles over to him, detectable under Bokuto’s booming. It’s comforting. He chances a glance in his direction just in time to witness Kuroo lick something off the side of his hand. _His tongue_. Maybe Sawamura’s less patient than he thought. His legs are jittering more than usual under the table, tapping out the rhythm of his heartbeat into the floor. Asahi waits dutifully for him to finish eating the yoghurt. Turns out that it takes a lot longer than usual if you have to poke a spoon through a hole for every mouthful.

“I’ll clear up.” Asahi calmly stacks their bowls on top of each other. “You go and say good morning.” He tells the pile of stuff in his hands, pointedly not looking at Sawamura. “It’s making me nervous watching you.”

“Nervous?” It’s not nervousness that Sawamura’s feeling. He’s familiar with nervous. He knows what nervous is. Remembers what it feels like as it courses through him before and during every match. Nervous is unsure and unconfident and painfully unmistakable. Nervous was yesterday, and all the days before that, when he had toed the line in some uncertain world not knowing what Kuroo felt like underneath him. Nervous was before Kuroo’s voice muffled in his chest, _I like you_ , floating up from under his chin, _I like you so much_. “I’m not nervous, Asahi.” This is impatience flooding through his veins. Impatience might be even more familiar to him than nervous, but he’s never felt it as strongly as this before. Because Kuroo is _right there_ and every part of his body is hyper aware of it. He pushes himself up from the table, tapping Asahi on the back twice as a goodbye.

“Ohoho!” Greets Bokuto, smile splitting his face into two.

“Kitty Cat.” Sawamura doesn’t mean to ignore everyone else but his name has been on the tip of his tongue since he woke up this morning. Bokuto visibly deflates. “Morning Bokuto,” he adds quickly, “Akaashi, Kenma.” Akaashi nods a greeting, Kenma grunting from over the top of his game. Kuroo rests his head in one palm, looking up at Sawamura.

“This is my favourite panda.” He decides after a moment, gaze focused on Sawamura’s midriff. Sawamura looks down. The panda is upside down to him but it’s not hard to make out that it’s the chubby one, sitting cross legged and slurping noodles out of an over-sized cup ramen.

“Really? Why?” For some reason he’d pegged the reclined one in the sun glasses as more Kuroo’s taste.

“Because you wore it today.” Sawamura’s eyes snap up to meet Kuroo’s, who only now seems to realise he spoke out loud, his face burning red. Akaashi coughs politely to try to cover up his giggle, but Bokuto laughs quite openly in his face. Kenma glances up from his game, smiling at Kuroo as if he’s a proud of him.

“Oh.” _His face._ Sawamura really wants to kiss that blush away, would were it not for their audience of over thirty teenage boys. Kuroo is kicking Bokuto under the table, not bothering to be subtle in any way. “I still have your kit.”

“Huh. So you do.” It’s clear that Kuroo hadn’t spared his kit a second of thought until this moment. He smirks. “I should probably come pick it up.”

“Right.” Sawamura agrees, nodding vigorously. He hadn’t even meant to remind Kuroo about his kit, it had sort of slipped out, probably due to the impatience pressing at the forefront of his mind. He watches in a kind of daze as Kuroo stands up. “Oh, right now?” Kuroo pauses.

“Well I’ll need it for practice.” He reasons, which is obvious now that Sawamura thinks about it. He nods again.

“I’ll clean up your stuff.” Kenma doesn’t look up this time. His ability to be focused entirely on his game and remain completely capable of following the events around him is a little amazing. Maybe that’s why he’s such a good setter. Kuroo pats the top of his head affectionately, eyes flicking back to Sawamura.

“After you.” Sawamura rolls his eyes, turning and walking out of the canteen. If he’s not mistaken Kuroo and Bokuto high-five before Kuroo dashes over to his side, trotting along next to him. Their arms are almost brushing against each other. It would be so easy for him to reach out with his little finger and curl it around Kuroo’s. Kuroo overtakes him on the stairs, jumping up them two at a time and laughing over his shoulder.

Ennoshita, Narita and Kinoshita are already back in Karasuno’s room, laughing at something on Ennoshita’s Pocketbook. Tsukishima is sat on the floor by the far wall, eyes closed and headphones on. Kageyama and Yamaguchi are foraging in their bags for toothbrushes, both of them already dressed in their kits. None of them pay any attention as Sawamura crosses the room and digs Kuroo’s kit out of his bag.

Thankfully by the time he’d made it back to his room last night everyone had been asleep. He’d been able to change into his pyjamas in the dark and sneak back to retrieve his clothes from the first gym’s locker this morning. He’d make a good secret spy.

He turns around and finds Kuroo leaning against the doorframe, watching him with a faraway expression. He stands up. Kuroo blinks, shaking himself a little. Sawamura’s eyes widen. Was Kuroo just checking him out? His eyes dart around the room. Why are half his team here? Couldn’t they all helpfully be elsewhere? Before he’s noticed he’s pushing Kuroo back out into the corridor, listening as his dorm room door closes softly behind them. He glances left and right. There’s nobody out here. Impatience is dangerous, Sawamura decides, tilting himself up to kiss Kuroo.

Kuroo’s response time is improving. It only takes a second before he presses back onto Sawamura’s lips, mouth opening eagerly. Kuroo crowds over Sawamura, one hand cupping under his jaw and the other curling around his hip. A single finger strokes under his pyjama top, releasing a growl from deep within his belly that Sawamura didn’t even know was there. He feels electric. Kuroo pulls away, laugh tumbling out to caress Sawamura’s face.

“Risky Sawamura,” He tuts, “anyone could walk down the corridor.” It’s worrying how little Sawamura cares. Kuroo licks his lips. “You’re spicy today.” Sawamura groans, stepping back from Kuroo and pushing his kit into his face.

“Why do I like you?” He grumbles, dragging a hand down his face. If anything he’s feeling more impatient than before. His skin is buzzing with the knowledge of how close Kuroo is. He wants to drag his hands through his hair and he wants to lick inside his mouth again and he wants to feel Kuroo’s entire hand up his shirt, not just a finger, and he _wants_.

“Because I’m so irresistible.” Kuroo teases, throwing his kit over his shoulder casually. Sawamura doesn’t deny it, openly tracing Kuroo’s body with his eyes. Kuroo’s pivoted onto one hip, angling a long leg towards him. Sawamura hums thoughtfully, a spark of satisfaction shooting through him when Kuroo swallows hard. At least he’s not the only one feeling affected.

“See you on the court Kitty Cat.” He trills, turning his back on Kuroo. He’d deny it if ever questioned, but as he walks back into his room he rotates his weight from hip to hip, the way Suga has shown him to do it at least a dozen times.

“ _Shit_.” He hears Kuroo mutter from behind before the door swings closed.

* * * *

It isn’t until Nekoma loses a match against Shinzen and they’re running back down the hill that Kuroo realises with a dumb sense of wonder that he’s in his kit, which Sawamura wore yesterday. It’s their first forfeit of the day, and he’s chuckling to himself over the word ‘forfeit’, which will forever be such a happy word to him now, when it hits him. He had always known, of course, but he hadn’t been thinking about it. This is the kit that Sawamura had been wearing last night. Last night when he had _straddled_ Kuroo. These shorts are the shorts Sawamura had gotten _hard_ in. Just the memory alone is enough to get him worked up, let alone wearing it. In a sense it will always be Sawamura’s kit too now; it will always remind him of him. Is that okay, he wonders. Is it okay for Sawamura to leech into his mind so often and to take over everything in some way?

“Tired already Captain?” Lev calls, jogging passed him.

“You wish!” He barrels at full speed after him, both of them crossing the threshold of the gym at the same time. “I win!” He announces.

“What? No! It was a draw!” Lev whines, latching onto Yaku as he pads in, “Yaku-san tell him it was a draw!”

“Captain always has the final say.” Yaku states, ducking out of Lev’s grasp to poke him in the ribs. “You should know that by now.”

“Ah! Sorry!” Kuroo gets the distinct impression that this apology isn’t aimed at him, especially as Lev tails after Yaku begging for forgiveness.

“Kuroo.” Kuroo jerks down to see Kenma at his side, eyes focused on the court in front of them. “They’re winning.” He looks up at the score board: Shinzen 22, Karasuno 24.

“Is this the final set?” Excitement floods through him. This would be their first win, if he’s not mistaken. It’s wrong really for him to support one team over another but so long as nobody finds out it should be fine. Minus Kenma, who hardly counts.

“Yeah. Looks like they won a set each.” Kenma’s pacing is a fraction faster than usual when he talks; he’s excited too. His tiny fist reaches up to grab onto Kuroo’s sleeve. It’s Kodama’s serve, maybe not Shinzen’s strongest server, but he hits the ball faster than anyone else. Noya receives it, sending the ball up to Kageyama. Something flashes for a split second before he fires the ball towards the shrimp, Kuroo would never have noticed if he wasn’t a volleyball player himself. Kageyama had hesitated. Kenma’s grip tightens.

“That’s not the toss he wants.” He explains in a harsh whisper as the shrimp's hand hits the ball. It wasn’t a bad toss, but it wasn’t their quick either. Akatani easily receives the ball, sending it flying high into the air. He’s still struggling with direction, but at least he’s always there to keep the ball up.

“He won’t send the quick?” Naguri flicks the ball for Ogano.  
  
“He doesn’t know how to send the right quick.” Ogano asses Karasuno’s side of the net and then jumps high, spiking hard. It flies to the right side of the court, as far away from Noya as he could have possibly aimed. Kuroo smirks.

“Karasuno’s won.” He tells Kenma. For some reason everyone always seems to underestimate Sawamura. Or forget he’s there maybe. It makes no sense to Kuroo whose eyes zero in on his every movement, drawn to him like a magnet. Sawamura dives forwards, eyes fixated on the ball. He’s so cool. A smile floats across Sawamura's face as the ball rebounds off of his forearms, arching perfectly for Kageyama. There’s no second of hesitation this time when he tosses backwards for Tanaka. Chigaya misses the ball by a hair. The whistle blows.

“How did you know?” Kenma asks him, blinking away from the match to stare at Kuroo. He doesn’t know how to explain it.

“Sawamura is so stable. Whenever he’s had a hand in a play the rest of them are always more self-assured and relaxed. He makes people feel safe."

“Oh.” Kenma’s fist uncurls from his shirt. “I forget you’re so observant when it comes to volleyball.”

“ _When it comes to volleyball_ ,” Kuroo mimics, “you didn’t need to tack that on the end!” He nudges Kenma in the side.

“Okay. Maybe you’re observant when it comes to Sawamura-san too.” Kenma rolls his eyes, wandering over to where coach Nekomata is gesturing for them to hurry up. Kuroo peeks back at the court. Everyone’s already cleared off, Shinzen trotting outside to carry out their forfeit. He finds Sawamura easily, huddled around his coach with the rest of his team and listening earnestly. As if he knows Kuroo’s watching him he tips his head backwards, catching his stare, and smiles. It’s probably okay for Sawamura to monopolize his thoughts, so long as the feeling’s mutual. And there’s really only one way for him to find out if that’s the case.

* * * *

“The trick”, Yamamoto explains slowly, “is the positioning of your teeth inside your mouth.” Hinata, Lev and Tanaka bob their heads like synchronized nodding dogs. “Everyone thinks it’s about the lips, but it’s all in the teeth!” He takes another huge bite out of his slice of watermelon, sucking on it with more concentration than Kuroo has seen him apply to any other task. He swallows, screws up his face like he’s miming out blowing up balloons, and fires out half a dozen seeds. Every single one pings against the can they’ve set up on the wall in front of them. Hinata and Lev both break out into awe-struck applause. Tanaka takes a bite from his own slice, checking with Yamamoto to make sure he approves of his facial set-up.

“Idiots are truly amazing.” Kuroo tells Bokuto. They’re sat far away enough that none of the others hear. Bokuto turns to look at him quizzically, watermelon juice running down his chin. Kuroo bursts into laughter.

“I can’t even separate the seeds!” Bokuto cries. “I just keep swallowing everything!”

“Here, I’ll teach you.” Kuroo gestures at the seeds in his watermelon. “You gotta suck, and then when you feel a seed, push it to the outside of your teeth with your tongue.” Bokuto watches with rapt attention as Kuroo takes a bite and moves his jaw a few times. After he’s swallowed he opens his mouth to show Bokuto all of the seeds on his tongue.

“So the trick _is_ the teeth!” Bokuto shrieks, diving face first back into his own slice. Kuroo watches him as he moves his entire head in circles. He opens his mouth dejectedly. “I swallowed all of them except one.” He spits out the lone seed onto his hand.

“That’s such an improvement, bro!” Kuroo ruffles his hair proudly. “Your first one!”

“My first one.” Bokuto stares at the seed in his palm reverently. Someone coughs behind them. Bokuto and Kuroo twist around, looking up to see Sawamura smiling serenely.

“Sorry to interrupt such a tender moment, but can I borrow Kuroo?” He asks Bokuto, eyes bright.

“Sure, sure,” Bokuto waves his empty hand at Kuroo. “Just make sure he’s home by midnight or he’ll turn back into a cat.” His attention snaps behind Sawamura. “Hey Tsukki!” He yells cheerfully. “Come and look at my first seed!” Tsukishima blinks carefully at the three of them.

“That's not something I want to do.” He asserts, venom dripping off of his voice. “And stop calling me Tsukki.”

“Ohoho!” Bokuto springs up from his spot on the grass and chases after him. “I’ll let you have it if you want it so bad! Even though it’s my first one!” Kuroo watches them disappear around a corner.

“I think Tsukki just made a new friend.” He informs Sawamura cheerfully.

“It’s turning out to be a great day for everyone.” Sawamura holds out his hand. Kuroo grabs onto it with his own, counting it in his head as the first time they’ve ever held hands, even if it’s just to hoist him up from the ground. Sawamura lets go as soon as Kuroo’s stood up.

“So, you wanted to borrow me?” Kuroo hedges, trying to diffuse the silence that's settled around them.

“Yeah.” Sawamura nods uncertainly, “Let’s take a walk?”

They don’t wander too far away, break’s over in a few minutes and as they’re both Captains it wouldn’t do to be late. At least that’s what Sawamura tells Kuroo as they journey around the side of the gym, strolling towards a cluster of trees close to the outside fence. Kuroo wouldn’t mind being late, is often late in fact. Even better to be caught coming late to practice with a flustered Sawamura. That way everyone will know that, at the very least, they’re close friends who lose track of time in each other’s company. Sawamura flops down in the shade under a tree, lying on his back and leaning on his elbows. Kuroo copies him, staring at the underside of the leaves above them.

“Does your face hurt?” Kuroo glances at Sawamura’s profile. The sun is sprinkling across him where it leaks through the holes between the leaves. It reminds him of how the street lights of Tokyo had danced across his skin when they were cycling.

“Not really.” He answers honestly. Coach Naoi had balked this morning when he first saw him, holding up a mirror to show him his face and rubbing some kind of soothing cream into his skin. It’s bruising a little under his eye, along his cheek bone, and around his nose. Summery shades of light green and yellow though, nothing as serious as purple. It will probably fade in a few days. Sawamura turns to look at him, as if to assess whether or not Kuroo is telling the truth. He rolls onto his side, bringing a hand up to touch Kuroo’s face, stroking the edge of the bruise carefully.

“You’re beautiful.” He tells him, voice as steady as his feet are when he’s on the court. He dips across Kuroo, giving his bruise the softest kiss. A squeak lodges itself in Kuroo’s throat. He pushes Sawamura’s shoulders back, staring at him openly embarrassed. Sawamura smiles unapologetically.

“ _You!_ ” Growls Kuroo, shoving Sawamura a little harder so that he lands on his back with a soft thud. He clambers on top of him, punching his shoulder to emphasise his point. “Be my boyfriend!” He heaves in a deep breath, watching Sawamura carefully. It’s important that he doesn’t miss a second of his reaction. He needs to know if the burning need that’s slowly consuming him also exists within Sawamura.

“Oh.” Sawamura looks up at him astonished, a smile blooming across his face. “That was really cool, Kitty Cat. Say it again? I wasn’t properly prepared.”

“I-” Kuroo flounders, unsure what to do now that Sawamura has veered off of the standard yes/no style of response. “I think about you all the time.” He’s never asked anyone to be his boyfriend before, but he’s been his mum’s date to enough movies to know that if he doesn’t do this right, everything will fall to hell later. “Even when I go to school and you’re not in Tokyo, I think about you. I wonder what you’re doing and if anyone is making you smile. People should _always_ make you smile. You slept in my bed, y’know? Whenever I go to sleep I can’t help but think about you. _It’s impossible!_ ”

Sawamura’s hand finds his face and for a mortifying moment Kuroo thinks he might have started crying again. He can hardly blame it on getting two knocks to the head today. But he hasn’t, isn’t, Sawamura just wants to touch him. He leans into the touch; he’s safe to fall as long as Sawamura is there to catch him. “I used to be able to zone out in volleyball, to shut out everything that wasn’t happening in the moment. But then you went and got a _boner in my kit_ and now- now- _I think about you all the time_.”

“Oh.” Sawamura looks more than dazed, fingers curling into Kuroo’s hair.

“So! Sawamura! Be my boyfriend!” Kuroo takes in a breath, staring at the sun sprinkles twirling through Sawamura’s hair. “Please?”

“You want to be my boyfriend?” Sawamura’s other hand strokes slowly up and down Kuroo’s arm, fingers flirting under his sleeve every time they get close. “Even though we’ll be so far away?” Kuroo nods determined. “Even though it will be hard?”

“No harder than this.”

“Even though we can’t go on real dates?”

“We can go on real dates! Who says we can’t?”

“I want to go on real dates with you every day.”

“I’ll take you on a real date today. Right now!”

“Right now?” Sawamura raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, not right now. We have to practice and I’m all sweaty.”

“I don’t mind; I’m sweaty too.”

“After dinner. I’m going to take you on a date after dinner. Unless you have other plans?” Kuroo leans down closer, daring Sawamura to say no with his eyes.

“After dinner works for me. Where are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise!” Sawamura laughs loudly, bright and happy.

“Kuroo.” There’s not much Kuroo wouldn’t do to hear Sawamura say his name in that voice for the rest of his life. “You’re so cool.”

“Well?” Kuroo punches his shoulder again. “You’re _killing_ me here! Are you my boyfriend or not?” Sawamura laughs again, hand leaving Kuroo’s hair so that he can drape his arm over his eyes.

“I really want to be your boyfriend.” He admits in a small voice.

“Oh.” Kuroo jerks away, sitting straight up and suddenly embarrassed. His face is probably red again. He pouts, looking up at the leaves twirling above them. “You could have said so sooner.”

“Sorry.” Sawamura’s hand skips from his arm to the front of his shirt, tugging him down so they’re nose to nose. He lifts the arm hiding his eyes up an inch, squinting at Kuroo. “I just really like the feeling of you on top of me. I wanted to make it last.” He snaps his arm back over his face.

“No fair!” Kuroo yells trying to wrench his arm away. “Let me see!” He grapples uselessly with one hand, fighting against Sawamura’s free hand with his other one. “This is a once in a lifetime moment Sawamura! What if this is the cutest you’ll _ever_ look? I owe it to mankind to bear witness!” He squeezes his knees around Sawamura’s rib cage tightly, hoping to suffocate him out.

“I’m not cute.” Sawamura shoots back affronted. “ _You’re_ the cute one!”

“Who do you think you are? Telling me my boyfriend’s not cute. I’ll fight you!” He leans forward to bite Sawamura’s elbow.

“You already are fighting me.” Sawamura points out, jostling his legs around in an attempt to overturn him. “And _I'm your boyfriend!_ ” The fight leaves Kuroo all at once. He stills on top of Sawamura, extracting his teeth from his elbow slowly.

“That’s right.” He fiddles with the front of Sawamura’s top, following the number one with his fingers. “You’re my boyfriend.”

“Oh.” Sawamura lifts his arm off of his face. “You’re my boyfriend.” He speaks slowly, testing the words.

“Shit.” Kuroo blinks down at him. “I really want to kiss you.” Sawamura smiles, propping himself up on his elbows. Kuroo reflects his smile right back at him. He licks his lips in anticipation, excitement shivering up his spine when Sawamura follows the motion. This is the first time, Kuroo notes as their noses bump before their lips collide, that he’s ever kissed his boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always for reading!! ♥ 
> 
> I'm still mostly confused as to how I let what was supposed to be a one-shot unravel into a 50k [currently] fic, but I'm at peace with it, & endlessly happy & grateful that you enjoy it too! 
> 
> & & & & you can bother me here if you really want ~ tmntransformer.tumblr.com/ ~ ヾ(＾∇＾)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELP, sorry this update took longer than usual. I got a little side-tracked by a fic for the Haikyuu Valentine's exchange [you can find it here - http://archiveofourown.org/works/6005017 - if you want to read it, but *warning* there's no KuroDai or KenHina...] so as kind of an apology this chapter is 10k long - I was going to split it into two but it flows better altogether - hopefully you'll forgive me.
> 
> & & & & check out this beautiful fanart; http://stopanime2k16.tumblr.com/post/138939540450/draws-daichi-in-kuroos-kit-because-im-thirsty  
> !! I cry it's so great !! ♡ 〜 ٩( //^ ▿ ^// )۶ 〜 ♡

“I can’t believe he didn’t want to stay and practice with us.” Bokuto pouts, twirling a ball around in his hands. “Especially after I gave him my first seed!”

“We’ll get him tomorrow for sure.” Kuroo nods confidently even though he can’t see that happening of Tsukishima’s free will. Then again, a little gentle persuasion never hurt anybody.

“Kuroo-san,” Lev is bouncing from foot to foot, staring wistfully at the empty door of the gym, “is Tsukishima joining us for practice important for me?”

“Not exactly,” he hedges, staring at him. In all honestly all he knows is that Bokuto’s decided Tsukishima is going to be his friend and wants to practice with him. And as Bokuto not only had a hand in convincing Sawamura to wear Kuroo’s kit, but also forwarded him all the pictures Akaashi had taken, he’s decided to help. However that’s not the sort of reasoning he can give Lev. “It’s important for you both. You lack basic game sense and he lacks drive.”

“If you merged you’d make one awesome player!” Bokuto squeezes the ball in his hands.

“What! But then we’d be over twelve feet tall!” Lev looks appalled by the very suggestion. “If we were over twelve feet I’d never notice Yaku-san! I’d step on him twice as much!” Bokuto drops the ball as he crumples into laughter.

“No, you idiot.” Kuroo shoves Lev on the shoulder. “He doesn’t mean it like that!”

“Your confidence and Tsukishima’s knowledge would make a better player if put together.” Akaashi explains patiently, stooping over to pick up the dropped ball. “Physically speaking you’re both similar. Mentally you’re very different.”

“Oh.” Lev blinks slowly. “So he’s my true rival? All this time I thought it was Hinata!”

“They’re both your rivals.” Kuroo thinks it can’t help for Lev to be a little more wary of everyone. Maybe then he’d start seriously practicing his receives with Yaku.

“Pfft!” Bokuto scoffs at the two of them, mouth twitching at the edges. “Tsukki’s way too good to be your rival!” Even Akaashi seems a little taken aback by that statement.

“I don’t get it.” Complains Lev. “We’re both middle blockers! And I’m _already_ the ace!”

“You’re not the ace!” Kuroo shoves him again, exasperated.

“Tsukki’s only not the ace because he doesn’t want to be.” Bokuto shrugs as if anyone can be an ace once they decide to. In Bokuto’s case that’s probably not too far from the truth. “He sucks at the moment because he doesn’t want to try. But,” Bokuto pauses dramatically, making sure he has everyone’s attention. Akaashi rolls his eyes. “When he starts to try, he’ll be leagues ahead of you! He’ll be the next Kitty Cat. Only better!” For once Bokuto might be onto something, Tsukishima’s volleyball style is closer to Kuroo’s than it is to Lev’s or the shrimp’s.

“He is basically Kuroo-san’s height.” Lev looks at Kuroo pitifully. “Taller than you already.” He adds sympathetically to Bokuto.

“That’s why he’ll take over as the next _Kitty Cat_!”

“I see.” Akaashi tilts his head to the side slightly, tone teasing. “So who’s taking over for you Bokuto-san?”

“The shrimp!”

“ _Heeeeh_? So then who am I?” Bokuto waves his hand dismissively, as if Lev is being problematic on purpose.

“You can be Sawamura.”

“What?” Lev and Kuroo scream at the same time. Akaashi sighs deeply, shaking his head at Bokuto.

“He’s _tiny_!” Lev’s bottom lip juts out. “Basically the same height as Yaku-san.”

“There’s no way he’ll ever be on Sawamura’s level.” Kuroo adds in a hiss. “He’s not-” he cuts off, staring at Lev with narrowed eyes. He doesn’t want to offend him, but there’s no nice way of saying he’s not steady enough. He’s not patient enough or caring enough. He’s not thoughtful enough or understanding enough. Lev, as he is now, barely supports himself, never mind his entire team. “He’s not-” Akaashi raises an eyebrow; Bokuto stares at him with amused interest.

“He’s not?” He prompts, eyes already crinkling up, ready to laugh.

“He’s not _enough_.” Kuroo finishes lamely, flinching at the hurt look taking over Lev’s face. Bokuto dips under the net and claps a hand on Lev’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Tall One,” he comforts in a soft voice, “it’s much better that he doesn’t see you in the same way as he sees Captain Thighs, _trust me_.” Kuroo groans, dragging a hand down his face. Akaashi throws the ball at Bokuto’s head.

“Hey hey hey, Akaashi! Why do you always take _his_ side!” Bokuto catches the ball after it rebounds off of his face, glaring at Kuroo like it’s his fault.

“Ohoho, jealous?” Bokuto holds one arm out towards Kuroo, closing an eye and taking aim.

“Ohoho?” Bokuto smiles. “And why would I be jealous of you?”

“Because _I_ have a daaate tonig–” before Kuroo can finish his sentence the ball hits him square in the face.

“Bro. That’s the three hundredth and second time you’ve told us.” Bokuto doesn’t seem annoyed by this fact, his delighted laughter echoing off of the walls.

“You must have seen that coming.” Akaashi frowns at Kuroo.

“Why would I block it when it makes him so happy?” He gestures lovingly at Bokuto who is using Lev’s arm as a support for him to hang off as he mimics Kuroo’s face when it was hit by the ball.

“I see.” Akaashi nods in understanding. Bokuto has one of the best laughs after all. He wanders over to where the ball has rolled to, stooping down to collect it once more and then readies himself into position. “Are we going to practice now?” Bokuto chirps excitedly, fleeing Lev to join Akaashi back on their side of the net.

“Ohoho Akaashi! Did you really just pester Bokuto into more practice? What kind of Twilight Zone is this?” Kuroo leers through the net. Bokuto opens his mouth with a retort, but Akaashi cuts him off, stepping ever so slightly in front of him.

“Clearly one where someone wants to date you.” Behind him Bokuto chokes on his own laughter.

“Wow,” Kuroo watches as a smirk flirts faintly onto Akaashi’s face. “Akaashi. Did you just _sass_ me?” He clutches a hand over his heart. “To think there’d be a day. Cute, innocent little Akaashi-kun sassing me. Unbelievable.” Akaashi rolls his eyes, the smirk not leaving his face. “Bro,” Kuroo stage-whispers at Bokuto, “this is the influence of Suga-san I’m telling you!”

“Bro!” Bokuto echoes in awe. “It’s kind of hot. I’m mostly attracted to Akaashi right now.”

“Bro! I could get on board with sassy Akaashi.”

“Bro, I’m already on board.” Bokuto nods sagely, not even flinching when Akaashi tosses the ball into his face again. Lev fidgets at Kuroo’s side.

“Kuroo-san,” he frowns as if he’s trying to work out the answer to a particularly difficult problem, “so you’re actually going on a date tonight?” Bokuto groans.

“No Tall One, he’s just been bragging about a fake, pretend date for the whole day.” He chuckles at his own joke, plucking the ball up from the floor. Lev ignores him, staring at Kuroo consideringly.

“But, _where_ are you going?”

“What?” Kuroo nudges Lev closer to the net as Akaashi looks like he’s got his game face on and will start playing for real. He bends his knees slightly, eyes focused on the way Bokuto is backing away, twirling the ball between his fingers in preparation.

“You said you’re going on a date with Sawamura.” Lev mumbles at his side, clearly trying to organise his thoughts. “A date this evening.” Bokuto tosses the ball high in the air a few feet in front of himself, bounding forwards into position underneath it, arms raised. The ball touches the cradle he’s created with his hands for the briefest of moments, tossing it high and fast towards Akaashi. “We’re here this evening. At Shinzen High. For a joint training camp.” Akaashi barely has to move, the ball curving towards him perfectly. He pushes up from his heels, sending the ball a few feet in front of him as Bokuto runs forwards to spike it. “So _where_ are you _going_ for the date? The canteen? With everyone around?” Bokuto’s arm slashes through the air like a whip, smacking the ball powerfully. Kuroo and Lev jump, but Lev’s not focused enough, moving his left arm too late. The ball ricochets off of his elbow, careening wildly to the side. Bokuto hoots passionately.

“Hey hey hey, did ya see that Akaashi?”

“Very nice Bokuto-san.” Bokuto’s face flushes red, his chest puffing out proudly. He quirks his head at Kuroo.

“Bro, get the ball! I’m on fire!” Kuroo jolts, head snapping up in panic.

“Shit, bro.” He stares helplessly at Bokuto. “Lev’s right. Where am I taking Sawamura?”

“I’m right?” It’s possible Lev is the most surprised by this outcome, his eyes wide and voice dazed. Bokuto dramatically starts humming the Twilight Zone intro.

“Bro!” Kuroo runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends as the panic sets in deeper. It’s not like they can go anywhere that isn’t at camp. Even if they could maybe sneak away and not get caught they have to be up early for more training tomorrow, will probably both be exhausted this evening; Kuroo doesn’t want to waste his precious time with Sawamura on travel. And he can hardly make Sawamura a cute meal when they’ll be wedged in a room with all their team mates.

“I’m sure he won’t care what you do.” Bokuto shrugs, smile bright, “he likes you so what does it matter?”

“Will this be your first date?” Lev looks down at Kuroo worriedly. Kuroo nods dismayed, deciding not to tell Lev this won’t just be his first date with Sawamura, but his first date ever. And he has zero plans for it. And it’s happening at a joint training camp with gross, sweaty boys behind every door.

“This is really, _really_ bad isn’t it.” Lev nods solemnly. Bokuto lets out an affronted squawk, ducking under the net to grab Kuroo by the shoulders. He shakes him a couple of times, leaning up so they’re eye to eye.

“No.” He says, surprisingly serious. “This is really, really excellent! You’ve been excited all day. We couldn’t shut you up! You’ll go lay under some trees or something and it will be the most excellent date! Because,” he leans even closer, nose a hairs width from Kuroo’s, “you have a huge crush on Sawamura and Sawamura has a huge crush on you. What else matters?” He headbutts him softly, leaning back to glare menacingly at Lev. “And you shut up.” He shakes his head, huffing out a breath of air exaggeratedly. “I can’t believe you let Lev get to you.” Kuroo barks a laugh, feeling less shaky than before.

“Right.” He can feel his face burning red, “it will be very excellent.”

“Bokuto-san is right.” Akaashi has walked around to their side of the net and is smiling at the two of them fondly. “Location is not important. Maybe you’d end up doing something similar even if we weren’t at camp.” He hunches one shoulder.

“Eh?” Lev’s eyes dart around, looking at all of them. “Are you guys serious?” Bokuto lets go of Kuroo’s shoulders and launches himself at Lev, attempting to wrestle him down into a head lock.

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?” Even if he weren’t giggling, his tone of voice is way too gleeful to fool anyone into thinking he’s actually angry.

“I just mean,” splutters Lev, whimpering apologetically, “I read a lot of manga.”

“Oh?” Bokuto pauses in his flailing. “Romantic manga?” When Lev doesn’t say anything Bokuto digs his heel into the top of his foot, grinning madly as Lev yelps.

“Not really. But first dates are always cute and never at training camps!” He laments, as if it’s him who’s going on a date this evening. “Dates are in parks or coffee shops or shopping centres or the cinema.”

“This is why you’re so tall!” Exclaims Bokuto. “You need all this extra storage for your lovey-dovey poetic feelings on dating. You old fashioned romantic!” He scruffs the hair on Lev’s head excitedly.

“Hmm,” Akaashi regards Kuroo. “You could walk around outside and pretend it’s a park. Or I’m sure if you asked in the canteen they have coffee. We can get Bokuto to be your waiter.”

“Oh yes! I’m an excellent waiter!”

“And we’ll use Lev’s bedsheets as a table cloth.” Kuroo adds wickedly, enjoying the horrified look that passes across Lev’s face before he nods resigned.

“Or we could set up a fake shopping centre in our room! Fukurodani will be store clerks! We can steal all of Sawamura’s stuff and then you can win it back for him. Super romantic!”

“Bro, you don’t _win_ stuff in stores, you _buy_ it.”

“Wah! Okay so we'll be a fake arcade!”

“This is getting complicated.” Akaashi frowns thoughtfully. “Next you’ll have us all dressed up performing a stage show for their viewing pleasure.”

“Ohoho!” Bokuto jumps, nearly smashing his head into Lev’s nose. “What’s your favourite film? We’ll get the script up on my phone and make it happen!” He pulls a dramatic pose, flexing his biceps and smiling reassuringly.

“Ah!” Something clicks in Kuroo’s head, a plan forming. “Bro! That’s just given me the _best_ idea!”

“It has?” If possible Lev sounds more worried now than he did at the thought of Kuroo taking Sawamura to the canteen for their date.

“I won’t be acting.” Akaashi adds calmly. “I can maybe direct.”

“No no no no.” Kuroo waves his hands out in front of himself, smile taking over his face. “I’m not sure it will work though. Can we rain check on practice?” Bokuto tips his head in confusion. “I have to see if my personal Cupid can help me!”

“Your personal Cupid?” Bokuto repeats back, seemingly lost.

“The shrimp! The shrimp!” Kuroo’s already walking backwards towards the gym door. “I’ll message you.” He winks at Bokuto. “And I’ll _definitely_ get Tsukki to practice with us tomorrow! As a thank you for being the best bro!”

“Right!” Bokuto nods happily, waving him away. “Go get ‘em Kitty Cat!” As Kuroo turns around and starts jogging in earnest he hears Bokuto proclaim “Okay, two versus one Tall One, let’s go!” followed by a series of distressed whines from Lev.

* * * *

Watching other people play games has never been something Kenma’s enjoyed. It makes him feel vaguely irritated and restless to see someone play differently to how he would, especially if they’re not very good. He’d much rather spend his time playing the game himself. Then again, before Hinata, having people watch him play games was never something Kenma enjoyed so in a way it makes sense; he doesn’t enjoy watching other people play games, he enjoys watching Hinata play games.

Hinata’s tucked under Kenma’s chin with his back leaning against his chest. Kenma has his legs crossed; Hinata’s legs bump over the top like a bridge. Every time Hinata flicks his head from one side to the other, leaning in the direction his character on screen is running, tufts of his hair tickle Kenma’s chin. He’s quieter like this than when it’s him watching Kenma play. His _oofts_ and _wahs_ unintentional vibrations that slip over the tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. It’s cute. Kenma’s hands are folded around Hinata’s middle, clasped together, but he still feels every breath that stutters through Hinata. Kenma feels very warm.

“ _Oooooaah!_ ” Hinata’s head twitches a little, as if he tried to look up at Kenma before remembering his neck doesn’t bend that way. “I have enough Bliss!” Kenma has given him his own save file on Fantasy Life. He didn’t really know what he expected Hinata to do, but was still somewhat surprised when he designed a tiny, ginger character and named it Shouyou. When Kenma plays games he typically doesn’t play as characters like himself. He was even more surprised that Hinata opted to be an Angler, nudging Kenma and telling him he was going catch him ‘so many fish’ and laughing at how cute the Angler's hat is.

“Oh, well done. You can unlock a bigger bag now, if you want. Or more storage.” Kenma would unlock a bigger bag as it’s the most useful, but he’s enjoying how Hinata’s played so far. He’s yet to start on the main storyline, instead wandering around doing side-missions to help all the people in town. “Or you can unlock a horse to ride on. It makes travelling faster.”

“Huh? No!” Hinata’s thumbs click insistently, ignoring Flutter’s dialogue. “I’m going to get a pet!”

“That’s not very helpful.” Kenma frowns. If he’d chosen the life of a Paladin or Mercenary it would make sense as pets can help you fight enemies, but an Angler doesn’t need a pet.

“I’m not getting it to be helpful.” Hinata scrolls along, selecting the pet option and humming happily.

“Oh.” Kenma’s never played a game this way before. Why would he work so hard to unlock something that’s not helpful to him? He watches as character Shouyou runs across town to the pet vendor. Hinata tilts his head in consideration.

“What do you think? Black or spotted?” He flicks back and forth between a black cat and a spotted one.

“Spotted.” It looks the most like Hinata he supposes. Some of the spots are orange.

“Okay!” Hinata clicks on it, tapping out a name with a giggle. Kenma blinks down. Kenma blinks back at him from the screen. “Now you can join me on my adventure! It’s more fun that way.” He states matter-of-factly.

“Oh.” Kenma hides his blush in Hinata’s hair. His fingers twitch. If he were to unfurl them he could probably touch Hinata’s belly. Maybe even stroke it. The door swings open.

“Shrimp!” Kuroo folds onto himself, bracing his hands against his knees and breathing in deeply. “I found you!” He blows a breath of air upwards to shift his hair out of his eyes.

“Kuroo-senpai?” Hinata twists up to look at him, inadvertently brushing his arms along Kenma’s.

“My Cupid! I need your help!”

“What with?” Kenma tries to sound unbothered, but Kuroo has always known him the best. He wanders over from the door, flopping down in front of the futon they’re curled on.

“Keeeenmaaa.” Kuroo pouts, reaching up to press his thumb to Kenma’s forehead. “Don’t scowl. I’m not stealing him I promise!” Kenma jerks back, shuffling his hair in front of his face. Hinata must have felt it because his left hand abandons the console and grips around Kenma’s forearm comfortingly.

“You’re annoying.” Kenma mutters, still avoiding eye contact.

“Can we not both help?” Hinata’s voice is bright and easy, even though as he speaks his legs tighten on top of Kenma’s own. It makes Kenma feel a little bit better thinking that maybe Hinata doesn’t want to leave either.

“Ah! Sure!” Kuroo nods vigorously. “Didn’t think it would be the type of thing Kenma would want to be involved in.” Kenma looks at him. He’s not lying, his voice completely honest. Kuroo’s cheeks are a shade pinker than usual; his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his top.

“Alright. I’ll help.”

“Just like that?” Hinata leans down and twists around to try and see Kenma’s face. “You don’t even know what with!” His eyebrows are furrowed as he scrutinises Kenma.

“It’s something to do with Sawamura-san. He called you Cupid.” The blushing and fidgeting are strong indications too. Kuroo chuckles.

“I forget you can read me as easily as I can read you.”

“You’re not difficult to read.” Kenma pokes out his tongue and tugs Hinata back gently to resting on his chest. He wants to leech it for all its worth if Kuroo will have them running weird romantic errands any moment.

“Uwaah! You need help with Sawamura-senpai?” Hinata vibrates eagerly.

“Kind of.” Kuroo huffs in a breath. “I want to take him to the cinema.” He looks at the two of them expectantly.

“So… take him?” Kenma doesn’t see how that’s a problem. Or how Hinata would be involved. Kuroo narrows his eyes. “Oh, you mean right now?” Kuroo groans.

“First dates at the cinema are the cutest! We could share popcorn and sit at the back holding hands in the dark.” Hinata splutters, hand squeezing tighter on Kenma’s forearm.

“You’re going to sneak out?” This is one of the worst ideas Kuroo has had in a while, Kenma thinks. They’re both Captains. If they were to get caught sneaking away for a date at the cinema during a training camp it would be bad. Especially for Sawamura who's much father from home.

“No no no!” Kuroo dismisses Kenma’s train of thought with a wave of his hand, shoulders slumping inwards. “Ideally we’d go to the cinema. But we’re here instead.”

“Did you forget to bring money?” Hinata chirps. “I can lend you some maybe!”

“Money wouldn’t be the first problem.” Kenma grins. “I’m pretty sure he only has his volleyball kit and pyjamas with him. Very appropriate first date choices.”

“Keeenmaaa!” Kuroo drops his head in his hands as Hinata fails to hold in his giggles.

“Sawamura-senpai won’t mind.” He assures around his laughter. “He’s probably the same.”

“Would you prefer him in his kit or panda pyjamas?” Kuroo peaks out between his fingers, eyes narrowed. Normally Kenma would stop there but he’s feeling a little braver with Hinata shielding him from Kuroo pouncing. Plus Kuroo deserves some form of payback for interrupting them. “Or perhaps you’d like him to wear your kit again?”

“Kenma!” Kuroo collapses onto his back, groaning at the ceiling. Hinata flops over in a similar way, holding onto his sides as he laughs at Kuroo’s embarrassment. Kenma takes the game console from him, closing it and placing it at the side where it will be safe. “I want to make him a cinema.”

“What?” Kenma can’t have heard that right. Kuroo doesn’t look over, telling the ceiling his idea instead. He’s always been easily embarrassed.

“I want to turn Nekoma’s room into a cinema. We can push all our beds together and project a movie onto one of the walls.” He pauses, shifting to look at the two of them out of the corner of his eyes. “Maybe save some sweet stuff from dinner to snack on.”

“You want the entire team there for your first date?”

“Well! I can’t exactly kick them out!” Kuroo pouts.

“If we make it like _rows_ of beds,” Hinata gestures to the stack of futons on the wall – they’d only bothered to take down one for themselves, “then you could still sit at the back and hold hands.” He nods at Kuroo warmly.

“How are we going to project a movie? Does someone have a projector?” If not they’ll all be sat in rows watching a blank wall.

“I’m guessing no.” Kuroo admits, obviously not thinking this far ahead in his plan. “We’d also need a movie…”

“You don’t even have a movie?”

”Ack!” Hinata smacks himself on the forehead. “Comb Head!”

“Is that a movie that you have?” Kuroo sounds hopeful, eyes lighting up.

“He calls Catdog Comb Head.” Kenma explains.

“Inuoka? What about him?”

“He has movies!” Hinata bounces a little in his excitement, arm brushing along Kenma’s. “He has _loads_ of movies!”

“He does?” Kuroo drags himself up into sitting, looking at Kenma for confirmation, but Kenma has no idea. He shrugs.

“He does! He does!”

“See! This is why you’re my Cupid!” He leans over and ruffles the top of Hinata’s hair. Hinata wriggles away from Kuroo’s hand, rolling off of Kenma’s lap and onto the floor next to him giggling. He kicks his legs, pushing himself up and pats his shorts down. “C’mon then! Let’s go find him!” He reaches out a hand to Kenma to help him up.

It doesn’t take them long to realise they’ve once again distracted themselves and are late for dinner. The empty corridor and bedrooms weren’t hard to decipher through. Hinata thinks this works in their favour anyway as now they know where Inuoka is. Sure enough when they arrive at the canteen they spot Inuoka happily slurping on some noodles and nodding at Shibayama opposite. They rush to collect some food, Hinata and Kuroo seemingly grabbing whatever is closest – Kenma only rushing so as not to be left behind – and drop their stuff down on the table. Kuroo makes himself comfy next to Shibayama.

“Catdog one, Catdog two” he nods at Inuoka and Shibayama respectively. Hinata takes the seat next to Inuoka, pulling out the one on his other side for Kenma.

“Comb Head you have movies right?” Kenma smiles to himself as he snaps his chopsticks apart; Hinata has never been subtle.

“Shouyou!” Inuoka looks a little perplexed by their sudden appearance but smiles and nods happily anyway. He’s always been friendly. “Yeah! You guys thinking of watching a movie?” He inclines his head at Hinata and Kenma.

“We’re thinking of all of us watching a movie.” Kuroo explains around a mouthful of food. “Setting up a mini cinema in Nekoma’s room.”

“Ehh?” Inuoka’s eyes shine. “That’s cool! For everyone? Team bonding!”

“For whoever wants to. Plus friends.” He winks at Hinata who glows a little pink at such attention. Kenma files this piece of information away for later use. “Or for however many of us can crowd around your laptop I guess.” Kuroo shrugs as if that’s a problem they’ll work out later.

“Oh. No. The movies are on my phone.” Inuoka reaches into his pocket and takes out a fairly old looking, small phone. “I watch them on the train to school and stuff.” He passes the phone over the table to Kuroo. “There are a few series too.” Kuroo leans his forehead on the top of the phone and squeezes his eyes closed.

“How are we going to have a movie night around a phone screen?” It sounds more like he’s asking himself than anyone else, but next to him Shibayama squeaks. Everyone turns to look at him. He places his spoon into his bowl.

“Do we- uhm- do we have a cardboard box? And a magnifying glass?”

“We can get a cardboard box easily!” Inuoka stands up, looking around the room as if one will materialise at any moment.

“The kitchen probably has cardboard boxes from deliveries.” Kenma tells him, suppressing a laugh when Inuoka throws his arm in the air as if the thought occurred to him on his own and bounces off in the direction of the kitchen.

“I have scissors and tape,” Shibayama continues, completely nonplussed by Inuoka’s bounding. He’s probably used to it. “But if someone had a box-cutting knife it would work better.”

“Tanaka-senpai!” Hinata suddenly yells out, pushing himself up on his hands and projecting his voice at the back of Tanaka’s head two tables away. This is why Kuroo didn’t think Kenma would want to get involved; everything’s taken a turn for the loud and hectic. Tanaka swivels around almost immediately, grinning delightedly at being addressed as senpai, and struts over to them. He leans heavily on Hinata’s shoulder.

“That’s me! What can I do for you?”

“Did you bring your box-cutters knife?” Hinata’s eyes shine up at him. Tanaka scratches behind his ear, nodding to himself.

“Yeah, yeah of course I did. You never know when you might need it!”

“Wahoo!” Hinata smiles hugely at Kuroo and Shibayama. “What else was it?”

“A magnifying glass, right?” Kuroo nudges Shibayama, who’s blinking nervously up at Tanaka.

“Ah- yeah. I mean yes. A magnifying glass.”

“Nah, don’t have one of those. Tora probably has one in his tool box.” He chuckles to himself.

“Yamamoto has a tool box?” Kenma’s never seen him with one before. Tanaka rolls his eyes.

“It’s more of a metaphorical tool box.”

“He did have a shovel yesterday.” Kuroo recalls. Kenma decides that it’s much safer for his sanity to never learn about whatever strange means Yamamoto is using to procure shovels and magnifying glasses from Shinzen High.

“So we _will_ have a magnifying glass!” Hinata whoops.

“One cardboard box!” Inuoka slams down the box in the middle of the table, causing their plates and bowls to jump. He pants, catching his breath, clearly having run back from the kitchen.

“What do you need all this stuff for?” Tanaka squints, taking in the size of the box. “A booby trap?”

“We’re going to make a cinema!” For some reason Inuoka is the most excited about it. “For Nekoma and friends.” He opens his arms like this entire plan is his own. Kuroo looks helplessly at Kenma. Maybe it’s gotten a little out of hand for what he had in mind.

“Yamamoto would have invited him anyway.” Kenma tells him gently. Kuroo grumbles something under his breath.

“It’s for everyone who wants to come. Just bring your own futons and stuff.”

“Oi,” Tanaka rocks Hinata a little bit, “you think Daichi-san will let us?”

“Hmmm,” Hinata glances from Tanaka to Kuroo, “maybe we don’t tell him. We surprise him! It’s better that way!”

“Good thinking!” Tanaka thumps him on the back. “You’ll have to create a diversion so that me, Tora and Noya can bring the futons and stuff over.”

“Ack! Why me?”

“Well _someone_ has to,” Tanaka reasons, “and we’re experts at moving big things quickly.” Kenma can’t work out why he sounds so proud of that.

“I’ll help you Shouyou,” Kenma nudges him with his leg, “Kuroo will too.”

“Yes! Teamwork!” Tanaka pushes himself off of Hinata. “What do we need the magnifying glass for?”

“I’m going to make a projector,” Shibayama pulls on a piece of his hair, “hopefully.”

“Yuki’s super clever!” Inuoka wraps an arm around Shibayama’s neck, hugging him close. “He’ll definitely be able to do it.” Shibayama flushes. Kuroo perks up.

“You can do that?” Inuoka nods more confidently than Shibayama. “Cool!” Kuroo tweaks Shibayama’s nose and then claps his hands. “Okay. You,” he points at Shibayama and Inuoka, “bring the cardboard box up to our room after dinner. _Secretly_. If Sawamura sees you it’s game over.”

“Aye, aye Captain!” Inuoka nods, using one hand to nod Shibayama’s head for him.

“You,” Kuroo points at Tanaka, “get your knife and Yamamoto’s magnifying glass and meet the Catdog pair in our room.”

“Yes, sir.” Tanaka salutes him.

“And we,” Kuroo makes a circling motion with his hand at Kenma, Hinata and himself, “will work on creating a distraction for when the tricycle needs to move furniture.”

“I’ll text Akaashi-san,” Kenma decides, “he’ll get Bokuto-san to help with the moving.” Possibly also get Suga involved with keeping Sawamura in the dark. Kuroo snaps his fingers.

“Good thinking! Okay, everyone eat and then we’ll get to work.” Inuoka throws his hand out onto the table top.

“Oh, we’re not going to do a hands-in-hands-up thing?” He makes to take his hand back. Shibayama slams his on top quickly, face even redder than before. Tanaka laughs, leaning down to put his on top. Hinata shuffles and grabs Kenma’s hand to add to the pile. Kuroo sighs, still smiling, and puts his hand down.

“A quiet hands up,” he tells them. “One, two, three.”

“ _Wooooo_.” Tanaka whisper-shouts. “I’ll catch you boys after dinner.” He makes finger guns at Inuoka and Shibayama as he walks backwards to his own table.

* * * *

“They’re up to something again.” Sawamura tells Suga, eyes following Kuroo as he practically runs passed their table to grab his dinner. He’s realised that a Kuroo late to a meal is a Kuroo who’s scheming.

“You know,” Suga smiles teasingly opposite him, “one of the perks of being The Boyfriend is you no longer need to be a creepy stalker; you can just _ask_ him.” Sawamura wrinkles his nose.

“I don’t care that much.” Completely untrue, he just could never ask Kuroo something so embarrassing. Even worse if he found out he’s a little bothered that he’s decided to sit with Hinata, Kenma and two of Nekoma’s first years for his first meal as Sawamura’s boyfriend. He tries to drown out this weird pathetic feeling by shovelling more rice into his mouth.

“Of course you don’t.” Suga nods in obvious disbelief.

“It’s more fun if you don’t ask him anyway.” Bokuto’s already finished eating and is sitting on the right side of the table to stare at Kuroo and company without anyone realising that’s what he’s doing. “I’ll find out for you. Be your Inside Man!”

“Oh, no, I really don’t care that much.” In his alarm Sawamura forgets he has a fresh mouthful of rice; grains spray out at the table around them.

“Kitty Cat sure is lucky.” Suga notes sarcastically. Bokuto throws his head back to laugh.

“Don’t worry! I’ll definitely find out for you.”

“Bokuto-san, I think that’s what he’s worried about.” Akaashi is sat next to Sawamura, but seemingly doesn’t share his qualms about turning around in his seat to see what’s happening on Kuroo’s table. “It _is_ a little strange he didn’t sit with you. He wouldn’t shut up about you earlier.”

“Ah. Tanaka’s been called over.” Suga relays for Sawamura, smirking at him.

“Is he an Inside Man?” Bokuto sounds a little dejected over the possibility that someone’s beat him to it.

“Nah,” Sawamura shakes his head, “but he’ll probably tell Noya who’ll tell Asahi. So I could find out. If I wanted to.” He adds hastily, staring down at his rice instead of at the knowing look on Suga’s face.

“ _Or_ , you could just ask him yourself.” Sawamura can hear the giggle in Suga’s voice.

“He’d definitely tell you,” agrees Akaashi, turning back to face the table, “you’re his biggest weakness.”

“Is that true?” Bokuto brightens up immediately. “Hey, Akaashi, how do we utilise that in a match?”

“Get Sawamura to stand court side dressed as a cheerleader.” Bokuto’s mouth drops open along with Sawamura’s. Suga laughs, staring so fondly at Akaashi that Sawamura would be a little embarrassed if his own embarrassment wasn’t over-riding everything else.

“Kitty Cat thinks this is your influence you know.” Bokuto tells Suga, sounding way too pleased for it to come across as a real accusation.

“Oh my God Bokuto! Yes!” Suga swivels to stare at Bokuto next to him. “You’re calling him Kitty Cat too? I’m so happy this is catching on.” A small blush starts to sprinkle across his nose. “I love it when my nicknames stick.”

“Dork.” Sawamura flicks a stray grain of rice at him.

“Says you.” Suga deadpans. “Captain Pines-From-A-Safe-Distance.”

“I pine up close too.” Sawamura admits, mostly to make Suga laugh. It’s an added bonus that both Bokuto and Akaashi find it funny as well.

“Ohoho!” Bokuto perks up. “They just did a superhero Go Team hand thing! I want to do that!” He looks at all of them. “Hey let’s do one of our own!”

“What are we getting riled up for?” Bokuto grins happily, already counting this as a win because Akaashi didn’t reject his suggestion outright.

“Me becoming the Inside Man of course!” Bokuto trills his tongue, bursting into the Mission Impossible theme tune and drumming his fingers on the table top. Akaashi rolls his eyes.

“I see.” He seems to think it over for a few more seconds before sighing in defeat. “Only if we do a discreet one, or else they’ll be onto us.”

“Right!” Bokuto nods as if this is of grave importance and puts his hand in the middle of the table. Suga and Akaashi follow first, smiling sweetly at Sawamura until he gives in and places his hand on top. “Three, two, one, go!” Bokuto is not discreet at all, jumping up from his seat and running over to Kuroo’s table as soon as they’re finished. Sawamura watches him go resigned. Akaashi sighs.

“He makes Fukurodani do that before every practice.”

* * * *

This, Hinata reminds himself, is The Crucial Moment. That’s what Kuroo and Bokuto have told him at least a dozen times. _We trust you_ Bokuto had said solemnly, patting him on the head gently. The Crucial Moment. Kenma keeps kindly insisting that they’re being dramatic because everything’s more fun to them when it’s over the top, but Hinata knows he’s just trying to be kind. Kenma is always kind to him. He lets him play his games and curl up in his lap and is walking with him right now to The Crucial Moment. Hinata wonders if Kenma thinks he’s kind back. He tries to be. People tell him he’s too loud and too rough, his teachers forever telling his mum he needs to try not to be so excited by everything. His mum nods along, but insists it’s not a bad thing when they get home. _Not everyone’s an exclamation point like you_ , she tells him. He’s never minded before; being an exclamation point is the most fun! But he doesn’t think Kenma, who is made of soft edges and shy smiles, would want an exclamation point around forever.

“If you were a punctuation mark, what would you be?” Kenma doesn’t ask him why he’s suddenly thought of that, making a little humming sound as he thinks the question over. Hinata’s struck by the realisation that Kenma is the only person who never laughs at him. He laughs with him. The difference is important.

“Probably an ellipses.” Kenma decides.

“The dot dot dot?”

“Mhm. Because they indicate a place where words are missing… Or unfinished.”

“Ack! You’re not a place where words are missing or unfinished!” Kenma smiles fondly, stopping outside of Karasuno’s room and tucking a strand of hair behind his ear to look at Hinata.

“You’re the only person who thinks that Shouyou.” Blood rushes to Hinata’s face.

“That’s the wrongest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Wrongest isn’t a word.”

“Well it made you smile so it _should_ be a word!” He reaches out a hand to open Karasuno’s door. “The Crucial Moment,” he takes in a deep breath, “wish me luck!”

“Good luck. I’ll be right here.” Kenma leans against the wall. Hinata walks into the room, bending over and clutching his stomach.

“Sawamura-senpai,” he calls out, hoping he’s not being overly loud. If this were real and not an act he’d definitely be ashamed. He loops a strange path towards where he knows Sawamura has set out his bed for the evening – walking straight wouldn’t be believable.

“Hinata? Are you okay?” Sawamura sounds concerned, that’s a good sign. Hinata groans for added effect.

“Sawamura-senpai,” he clutches his stomach tighter, “I’m sorry.” He can’t look him in the eye, staring at his own socked feet instead. He’s never been great at lying. He hears Sawamura shift in front of him, warm hand suddenly on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry. Tell me what’s happened.” His voice is soft. It’s easy for Hinata to forget he has this kind of side.

“I must have eaten something weird at dinner.” He groans again, trying to remember the exact words Bokuto had told him to say. “I thought I’d be fine but then- then,” he squeezes his eyes closed, mumbling out his next words in a quick rush of air, “I puked all over the bathroom.” Sawamura doesn’t say anything. Hinata moans, not having to fake it this time. “I’m really, really sorry!”

“Shh, shh.” Sawamura’s hand strokes his back. “Don’t worry, you couldn’t help it. Here, sit down with Suga.” He guides Hinata, patting his shoulders gently, onto Sawamura’s futon on the floor. Sugawara looks up from his phone curiously. Hinata tries not to let his panic show; fooling Sawamura is one thing but fooling Sugawara is entirely different. “Suga,” Sawamura’s voice switches to Action Mode, “can you keep Hinata company for a second? I’ll message Shizumi to bring the first aid kit, there should to be some medicine in there.” Sawamura leans down, crouching next to Hinata. “Don’t worry okay, these things happen.”

“At least it happened in a bathroom and not all over Tanaka.” Sugawara adds brightly, shifting from his futon opposite to kneeling in front of Hinata on the floor. “I’ll message Shizumi and if he gets worse I’ll let Ukai-san know.” Sugawara tells Sawamura. “That way you can focus all your efforts on cleaning the bathroom, Captain.”

“Great. Thank you.” Sawamura pats Hinata on the back again, completely undeterred by Sugawara’s mocking tone. “Which bathroom was it Hinata?”

“Uhm,” in the dress rehearsal of The Crucial Moment, Bokuto-as-Sawamura asked Hinata to escort him to the scene of the crime. Trust the real Sawamura to not follow the script. “The last one on the left.” He shrinks further into himself.

“Right. I’m going to go clean it up. Stay here with Suga and if you don’t feel better, or if you feel like you might be sick again, let Suga know, okay?” Hinata nods numbly.

“If there’s no time to tell me just try to vomit straight into Daichi’s bag.” Suggests Sugawara, transforming his giggles into a cough at the stern look Sawamura sends him. Hinata listens to Sawamura’s feet moving away only to return seconds later.

“You can use this if you need to.” He tells him softly, laying down a small bin by his side. He strokes his hair soothingly. “And stop worrying; these things happen.”

“Thank you.” Hinata mumbles, listening as Sawamura moves away again. When he hears the sound of the door close he looks up. Sugawara smiles at him.

“That was a stunning performance Hinata-chan.” Sugawara laughs up at him. Figures that he knew all along. “I think that deserves a round of applause.” He claps his hands together softly and Hinata jerks when it’s joined by others. Gathered around Ennoshita’s futon the second years and Azumane are clapping their hands, Tanaka whooping into the air.

“Amazing Shouyou,” congratulates Nishinoya, blowing him a kiss across the room, “truly, truly amazing.” He wipes a fake tear from his eyes.

“Isn’t this where you’re meant to start moving the futons across?” Ennoshita asks around a smirk. Tanaka manhandles him to his feet.

“Correct,” he trills, “and since you’re here you can help us.” He grabs one end of his futon from the floor, “c’mon help me with mine and then I’ll help you with yours.” Ennoshita grumbles under his breath, complying anyway. Nishinoya leaps to grab his own futon, sandwiching it with Azumane’s.

“Asahi-san, let’s take both of ours together! At the same time! Wrap the blankets around me too.”

“It might be safer if we go one at a time…”

“What’s going on?” Hinata’s head snaps to the door, heart thudding in his chest. He doesn’t know why he thought that could be Sawamura when he’d know that voice anywhere.

“Ah. Kageyama-kun! Yamaguchi-kun! Perfect timing.” Sugawara picks himself up from the floor, folding his blanket into a bundle and taking both his and Sawamura’s pillows under an arm. “Grab your stuff; we’re going to watch a movie.” It says a lot, Hinata thinks, that neither Kageyama nor Yamaguchi thinks to question this turn of events and move to grab their stuff obediently.

“Oh, Tsukki’s still in the shower.” Yamaguchi nibbles on his lip.

“We’ll tell him as we pass,” Sugawara says, opening the door and checking left and right, “okay, _quietly_ now.” In a display of organisation that Hinata’s never seen from Karasuno, everyone files out in pairs, at least one futon between them as Sugawara holds open the door. Narita and Kinoshita shuffle out last, balancing their pillows on top of their futons with their blankets wrapped around their shoulders. Kenma peers around the edge of the door.

“You did really well Shouyou.” He tells him, slinking inside as Sugawara lets the door go and wanders away smiling to himself. Kenma glances around the room, making his way to Hinata’s futon and gathering his pillow and blanket for him. “We can both sit on my futon.” Hinata nods, jumping up to get the door for him.

“Do you need any help?” He asks as they skip down the hallway towards Nekoma’s room.

“Mhm.” Kenma shifts next to him, tucking everything under one arm. He holds out his empty hand. “You can take this?” Hinata stops, looking back and forth between Kenma’s pink face and his outstretched hand. “If you want?” Hedges Kenma, face burning pinker. “Sorry… That wasn’t very cool.”

“Wah!” Hinata lurches forwards, grabbing onto Kenma’s hand before Kenma changes his mind. He links their fingers together. “No! That was _so_ cool! I was speechless!” He starts moving again, humming happily and swinging their hands in between them.

“Oh.” Kenma’s hand squeezes his. “I copied it from a Vine.” Hinata has the burning urge to find out who _exactly_ invented Vine so he can send them a personal letter of gratitude.

* * * *

Sawamura decides to check out the bathroom first, before seeing if he can borrow some cleaning supplies from somewhere. If he’s lucky he’ll be able to wash Hinata’s vomit down a drain or something – the bathroom _is_ tiled after all. He might even get away with just borrowing an air freshener. He sends Kuroo a quick message, explaining where he’s gone in case he goes to Karasuno’s room looking for him. He did say they’d go on a date after dinner. Sawamura toes open the bathroom door slowly, sucking in one last lungful of air and holding his breath. It rushes out of him instantly as soon as he sees the inside of the bathroom. There is no vomit. None that he can see or smell at least. There is however one Kuroo Tetsurou perched so casually on the ledge of sinks that it can’t be genuine.

“Eh? Sawamura? What brings you here?” Kuroo swings his legs slowly, smirking at him as if he’s bested Sawamura in a contest of some kind.

“Hinata said he was sick.” He narrows his eyes, realising that’s it’s not only possible that Kuroo has recruited Hinata as an Inside Man, but painfully probable.

“Did he now?” Kuroo leans forward, making a show of looking around the otherwise empty room. “Are you sure you’re in the right bathroom?” Sawamura groans, closing the distance between them so he’s stood just in front of Kuroo. Close enough that Kuroo has to stop swinging his legs. He folds his arms across his chest, placing his weight on one hip.

“You put him up to this.” Kuroo laughs, holding his hands up in surrender.

“You got me.” He allows. Sawamura raises an eyebrow. That was too easy. He’s still scheming something.

“And you had Hinata pretend to be sick because…?”

“Isn’t it obvious? So I could whisk you away dramatically and romantically for our date.” He leans even closer to Sawamura, lowering his voice like he’s parting with a secret. “The shrimp is my own personal Cupid. He gave you my number and everything.” Sawamura huffs, breaking eye contact and urging himself not to blush.

“I see. So this is our date?” He rotates slowly, looking around the bathroom with exaggerated care just in case he overlooked something the first time. “It is both ‘dramatic and romantic’.” He tells him when they’re face to face once more, using his fingers to make little quotes in the air. Kuroo’s smile stretches wider.

“Oh? And what did you expect?”

“I don’t know.” Sawamura admits. “I was leaning towards the idea that we’d go for ice cream. But I’m hoping you wouldn’t lure me into a bathroom for that.” Kuroo’s eyebrows knot together.

“Huh? Ice cream?”

“Yesterday Suga said you went for ice cream before dinner… I thought maybe you’d show me where you’re secretly getting it from.”

“Wait. Suga told you I went for ice cream?”

“Yep.” Sawamura nods, recalling their conversation exactly. “He said you were undecided between Neapolitan ice cream and a banana split. Actually, he asked me to find out what you chose in the end.”

“No!” For some reason Kuroo’s face has started to turn red. He drags a hand through his hair, groaning to himself. “He’s the devil.” He tells Sawamura, voice a pitch higher than before. “He’s the actual devil disguised as an angel!”

“So… we’re not getting ice cream?”

“No!” Kuroo shakes his head in dismay. “Nobody had any ice cream. I never wanted either ice cream!”

“You don’t like ice cream?” Sawamura knows he’s misunderstood something, but he’s enjoying watching Kuroo transform from cocky and self-assured to blushing and flustered.

“I like ice cream just fine. But, but,” he flails his hands in the air, staring at Sawamura like he might help him out.

“But?” It’s Sawamura’s turn to smirk.

“The ice cream thing was just a theory of Bokuto’s.” He says in a rush. “When I thought you and Suga were together, he suggested that maybe you guys were looking to, like, _recruit_ me into your togetherness. Recruit was the actual word he used!” Kuroo chews nervously on his bottom lip, watching Sawamura as if afraid he’ll bolt out of the room at any moment.

“Oh.” Sawamura’s not entirely surprised. He’d known from Suga’s sniggering to expect something a little unusual. “So ice cream was just a name for this theory?”

“Ah, no… we _were_ the ice cream.” Kuroo looks at his knees. “Suga was vanilla, you were chocolate and I was strawberry.”

“ _Oh_.” Sawamura scoffs, holding a hand in front of his mouth. “Neapolitan ice cream. I get it.” Kuroo groans, hiding his face in his hands. “So what’s the banana split then? You’re the banana and I’m the split?” A keening sound leaves the back of Kuroo’s throat as he shakes his head slowly.

“We were still the ice cream. Bokuto was the banana, Kenma, the shrimp and Tsukki were the little cherries and Akaashi was the cream on top.”

“I see.” Sawamura speaks slowly, trying to hold back his laughter. “So what did you decide?” His voice breaks a little at the end. Kuroo wraps his legs around him suddenly, pulling him in so they’re chest to chest and hiding his face between Sawamura’s shoulder and neck.

“You’re being mean.” He accuses. Sawamura clutches Kuroo’s biceps, stroking his hands up towards his shoulders.

“Not entirely.” He chuckles into the back of Kuroo's hair, insides fluttering at this sudden contact. “As your boyfriend I think it’s important that I know up front how many people you’re going to be recruiting.” Kuroo groans again, pressing his face into Sawamura more firmly.

“I already told you,” his whines, voice muffled, “I never wanted ice cream.”

“Oh?” Sawamura’s heart thuds erratically. He’s right. He did say that. “Why not?” Kuroo wriggles his head so that it’s leaning on Sawamura’s shoulder, breath caressing the back of his neck.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“No.” Sawamura smiles. It’s a little obvious; he just wants to hear Kuroo say it.

“I’m really selfish.” Kuroo all but whispers. “I only want you. And I don’t want to share.”

“Woah.” Sawamura jerks back to look at Kuroo, faces matching shades of red. “That’s not what I thought you were going to say!”

“Shit.” Kuroo’s eyes fly wide. “What did you think I was going to say?”

“I don’t know! ‘I like chocolate ice cream the best’ and laugh or something!”

“That would have been a much cooler thing to say, yes.” Kuroo drops his forehead onto Sawamura’s. “Your daydream version of me would be a better boyfriend.”

“I don’t believe it. Are you jealous of yourself?” Sawamura teases, moving his hands to pinch Kuroo’s sides lightly.

“Maybe a little. He sounds like a smooth talker.”

“Plus he doesn’t wrap himself around me in a bathroom anyone could walk into.”

“Ah, I’m not jealous of him anymore.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“You shouldn’t have said it like it was one then.” Without warning Kuroo tips his face down and kisses Sawamura. He tugs him even closer with his legs, one hand moving to cup along his jaw. Sawamura gasps when he feels Kuroo’s other hand sneak onto the curve of his bottom. Kuroo chuckles, the sound rumbling through every point they’re connected, and slips his tongue into Sawamura’s shocked mouth. Sawamura’s fingers hold on to Kuroo’s shoulder so tightly he’s positive he’s hurting him, but he doesn’t seem to notice, running his tongue along the roof of Sawamura’s mouth and humming happily. He pulls away as quickly as he descended, leaving Sawamura wide eyed and open mouthed. Kuroo chuckles, eyes crinkling at the corners. He leans down and pecks the edge of Sawamura’s lips, hand stroking along his jaw; his fingers fiddle with Sawamura’s ear lobe.

“You’re much better than a daydream.”

“Oh?” Kuroo smirks over the top of his blush. “Now who’s the smooth talker?”

“Says the guy with his hand on my arse.”

“Ah! Shit.” Kuroo’s hand flinches back like he’s been zapped. “Sorry.” Sawamura laughs, walking his fingers behind Kuroo’s neck and tugging to bring him down so that they’re eye level.

“Kitty Cat,” he purrs, fiercely ignoring how hot his face feels, “I wasn’t complaining.” _I want you to touch me_ , he doesn’t say out loud, too embarrassed but sending it telepathically with all his being. Kuroo gulps, the bob of his Adam’s apple the most erotic thing Sawamura’s ever seen.

“Really?” The word falls as softly from Kuroo’s mouth as his hand lands to rest back on Sawamura’s bottom. “Sadly, we have a first date we should probably be getting to.”

“Wait, this isn’t the date?”

“Yes Sawamura, for our first date I decided to grope you in a bathroom.”

“Best first date I’ve ever been on.” Kuroo’s hand clenches briefly and then drops away. His legs unwrap themselves from Sawamura.

“Me too. But it will look suspicious if we take _too_ long.”

“Suspicious to who?” Kuroo moves Sawamura to the side gently and jumps down onto the floor next to him.

“You’ll see.” He hums noncommittaly walking over to the door. He holds a hand up at Sawamura, indicating that he should stay still as he pokes his head out and looks around. “Just checking.” He grumbles in reply to Sawamura’s frown. “C’mon then.” He reaches over and yanks Sawamura into the hallway with him, draping an arm around his shoulders.

“You’ve really planned a date?” Sawamura looks down at the chubby panda on his pyjama top. Other than supposing they’d treat themselves to Kuroo’s secret ice cream stash, he thought they’d just hang out in his or Kuroo’s room before bedtime and call it a date. “Do I need to get changed?” He’s not even wearing socks or shoes.

“Definitely not.” Kuroo pokes him in the belly. “This is my favourite panda. It wouldn’t be a date without him.”

“So all of our dates are going to be pyjama friendly?”

“Ah- _hah_! So you admit you want a second date already!” Kuroo sounds delighted with himself, as if Sawamura didn’t tell him just this morning that he wants to go on dates with him every day.

“It’s looking likely.” He says instead, elbowing Kuroo in the side when he laughs. Kuroo stops them in front of Nekoma’s room and raps his knuckles across the door a few times. It opens a sliver, Bokuto squeezing himself out and shutting it promptly behind himself.

“Bro,” Kuroo doesn’t seem surprised that the Captain of Fukurodani has just answered his team’s door, only to shut them all out, instead flicking the glasses perched on his nose, “where did you get these?” Bokuto makes a show of running his hands through his damp hair, flicking it a little and pushing the glasses up his face.

“They’re Tsukki’s. I borrowed them when he was in the shower.”

“Can you see out of them?” Kuroo asks when Sawamura thinks a more appropriate question would be can Tsukishima see wherever he’s been left.

“Not even a little bit. It’s why I’ve been designated door duty.” Kuroo laughs, digging in his pockets for his phone.

“Bro, you look so cute! Your hair is all floppy and everything!” Kuroo wraps his other arm around Bokuto, aiming his phone camera at the three of them. “Smile!”

“Of course Bokuto is in the first boyfriends photo we have together.” Sawamura should definitely have seen that one coming. Kuroo yelps at his side, shoulder tensing.

“Sorry.”

“I don’t mind.” Sawamura assures, smirking at the worried turn of Kuroo’s mouth. “He _is_ the banana.” Kuroo shoves Bokuto away roughly, growling at Sawamura and tugging him in for a hard kiss. Sawamura hears the phone click. Kuroo pulls back, clearly satisfied.  
  
“Ohoho!” Bokuto catches himself against the wall. “I feel like something hot just happened.” He squints out of the frames. “Man, Tsukki sure is blind.”

“Where is Tsukishima?” Sawamura really hopes Bokuto didn’t abandon him sans glasses in the shower.

“Inside of course.” Bokuto jerks his thumb over his shoulder. Kuroo smacks him on the back of the head lightly.

“Bro!”

“Oh! I mean. _Somewhere_ of course.” Bokuto shoots a thumbs up in Sawamura’s direction. “Don’t worry Kitty Cat.” His hands fumble along the wall to the door handle and he opens it a fraction, tilting his head. “Okay.” He beams, throwing the door open wide and stepping inside.

“Okay!” Kuroo pushes Sawamura forwards, laughing at the bemused expression on his face.

“Welcome to the gayest room in Tokyo.” Bokuto proclaims, throwing his arms up like a circus ringleader. Sawamura blinks around the room, eyes adjusting. Somewhere to his right he hears someone hiss _What? I’m not gay_ followed by a voice that sounds suspiciously like Tanaka coughing _yet_. Out of the darkness the lumps reveal themselves as piles upon piles of people, squashed together on futons and huddled under blankets. It looks like everyone at training camp has managed to arrange themselves into one room.

“Kitty Cat,” he hisses in a low whisper, “did you invite _everyone_ on a date?”

“Please, don’t say it.”

“Exactly how many people are you recruiting?” Kuroo’s answering groan is cut off by Inuoka clapping his hands at the front.

“Close the door please, the movie is about to start.” He announces in a strangely authorative voice. From somewhere to their left Bokuto is dragged down, laughing as Tsukishima begins to scold him in a rushed whisper. Kuroo closes the door gently, returning to Sawamura’s side and grabbing onto his wrist.

“Here. I made sure we had a spot at the back.” Sawamura follows Kuroo, weaving around futons and stepping over legs. Leant on the back wall there’s a futon unoccupied by anyone, with a pile of pillows propped against the wall. Kuroo shakes out the blanket that’s been left on it and sits down, gesturing for Sawamura to follow suit. He tucks the blanket around them both just as a large square of blue light flickers onto the opposite wall.

“Wait, are we really going to watch a movie?” Kuroo hums in affirmation, leaning down to whisper quietly in Sawamura’s ear.

“If we weren’t here then I would have liked to take you to a real cinema. But we _are_ here. So we made you a cinema.” Sawamura turns so that he can look at Kuroo’s face.

“We?” Kuroo grins.

“I know I’m pretty great, but there’s no way I could have pulled this off on my own.”

“So you really did invite everyone along to our first date.”

“Ah! No, mostly everyone thinks this is a bonding exercise and has no idea this has all been orchestrated simply so I can hold your hand at the back.”

“Oh.” Sawamura is thankful that Kuroo can’t see his blush in this near darkness. He turns back to the movie wall, focusing on the scene unfolding. Some mountains. Trees. “Are we watching Princess Mononoke?” Kuroo scoffs lightly.

“What did you expect from Catdog?”

“Princess Mononoke is about wolves, not dogs.”

“Ohoho? Are you perhaps a fan of Princess Mononoke?” Kuroo leans in front of his vision, smug expression plastered on his face.

“When I was a kid I kind of wanted to be Ashitaka,” Sawamura admits, leaning to look at the movie behind Kuroo’s head. “The whole riding around on an elk, shooting a bow and arrow thing really appealed to me.”

“Oh? So saving the pretty princess didn’t factor?” Sawamura laughs, jostling Kuroo with his shoulder.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but princes are more my thing.”

“I see.”

“Then again,” Sawamura shuffles a little closer to Kuroo, whispering quietly and hoping no one else hears. “You’re a little similar to San. All fiery spirit and wild hair. You could be her cat counter-part.” Kuroo chuckles into his ear.

“Cosplay kink.” Sawamura tries to smack him and wriggle away, but Kuroo holds onto his hand, humming along smugly with the opening theme music.

“I can’t believe that l like you.” He grumbles, tucking himself into Kuroo’s side properly and getting comfortable.

“Me either,” Kuroo agrees softly. “Oh, and before I forget.” He reaches out next to himself and drags a bowl onto the blanket. “There are chopped carrots and apples as movies snacks. It’s all we could pinch from the kitchen. Tomatoes proved to be a mistake.” Sawamura laughs, using his free hand to grab a slice of apple. If one of the coaches were to check on them now, there'd be no way to explain the situation and they’d probably all end up running forfeits tomorrow. Usually Sawamura would care, maybe even shuffle his team back to their own room and make sure they got to bed on time. But with Kuroo warm at his side, _ooh_ -ing dramatically as the action unfolds, he finds he’d run any number of forfeits to have this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shamelessly projects my love of Fantasy Life & Princess Mononoke onto everyone*


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey heyyy, check out this doodle of Bokuto in Tsukki's glasses from last chapter ~  
> thewolvesrunwild.tumblr.com/post/139870777517/bokuto-stole-tsukkis-glasses-in-kiss-live-with  
> IT'S SO CUTE !! ♡♡
> 
> Also my brothers discovered I'm writing this & asked for the link *cackles hysterically* & have started reading it on their morning commute to work & school & so this is a public apology to them for all the nonsense that happens in my head. Oops. 
> 
> & & & special shout-out to thighchis, fluffybaccachick & dontminditsjustrehearsal (tumblr names as I have no idea what your names are on here... welp) for tagging me in cute pics saying I'm one of their favourite KuroDai writers &/or sending messages of encouragement. I had a real struggle writing this chapter & little things like that really helped so thank you (୨୧ ❛ᴗ❛)✧ !!

The first thing that Kuroo notices when he wakes up is that something is poking him in the side of the face. Insistently. Every few jabs lands in his left eye. The second thing he notices is that someone has hold of both of his ankles and is trying to drag him feet first out of the end of his futon. Forcefully. The only reason he’s managed to not be dragged away yet is thanks to his left arm, which is wedged underneath a warm weight somewhere above his head. He blinks furiously, looking below him, but whoever has his ankles is on the other side of the blanket he’s suffocating under. He’s tugged some more, arm shifting an inch, and the thing pokes him in the ear. He jerks his head automatically, enabling him to get poked in the eye again.

“What the-” Using his free hand he rubs at his eyes, leaning away as best he can and squints in the dusty half-light. Even though it’s immediately apparent he’s being poked by the trouser tent in Sawamura’s pyjamas it takes him a few seconds to accept that this is happening. It’s long enough that the person on the other end of his feet tugs again. He opens his mouth, ready to give them a piece of his mind, but instead a series of garbled sounds choke out as Sawamura’s jerked into the side of his face. Sawamura makes a rumbling sound, shifting ever so slightly in his sleep. He hooks a leg over Kuroo’s torso, pinning him in place. Kuroo’s pyjamas start to pitch a tent of their own; he’s had dreams about these thighs being wrapped around him. But the strain on the other end of his legs refuses to let up so he does the only thing he can think of: he bends his knees and kicks. This, he’s decided, is a classic case of kidnapping. Being dragged off at the crack of dawn unbeknownst to his sleeping boyfriend who’s curled contentedly on his arm with a nice piece of morning wood. The nerve of some people.

“Wah!” His feet are dropped with a sudden thud and he smiles victoriously, attempting to wriggle back up the futon. A sudden billow of air rushes up from the end of the blanket and Kuroo realises with a start that the kidnapper is coming in. How can he fight off someone with only one arm and limited sight? Instead of a kidnapper however, familiar, golden eyes blink at him curiously.

“Bokuto?” A strangely desperate squeak leaves Bokuto as he hurriedly crawls up Kuroo’s body, slotting himself alongside Sawamura’s leg. “What’s going on?” Bokuto doesn’t answer him, tucking the blanket around them so they’re shut in from the outside world. He buries his face in Kuroo’s chest, breathing in deeply.

“Kuroo.” He sighs. Kuroo jostles Bokuto’s body, trying to get his attention without disturbing Sawamura.

“Bokuto, what’s going on?” He whispers into the top of his head, breath disturbing his hair. He uses his free hand to pat Bokuto’s back.

“Kuroo. Something’s really, really wrong.” Kuroo nods, stopping abruptly when Sawamura stutters forwards an inch. He tries to shift them further apart to avoid any more accidental nuzzling, but it’s easier said than done with Bokuto weighing him down.

“What’s wrong?” If something were happening to everybody, say an apocalypse of some sort, Kuroo hopes that Bokuto wouldn’t try to drag him off alone and when that failed bury himself under the blanket with him to wait for the doom to reach them. For this reason he’s decided Bokuto must be having a personal crisis. This works for Kuroo; he’d never be able to outrun an apocalypse this soon after waking up.

“It’s really, _really_ wrong!” Bokuto insists shrilly, gripping onto Kuroo’s top.

“Right. Yes. I get that. Maybe we should have this conversation elsewhere?” Kuroo’s feeling exceedingly uncomfortable about how close Bokuto is getting to stumbling across the problem in his pants. Or looking up and realising the matching problem in Sawamura’s.

“I did _try_ to do that!” Bokuto looks up at him indignantly. “But you _refused_ to budge! What’s that all about?”

“Uhhh. I was asleep?” Bokuto rolls his eyes, huffing out an impatient breath to convey how unacceptable a reason that is. His eyes halt mid-roll, focusing in on Sawamura. They widen slowly and Kuroo feels his whole body catch alight with the need to be anywhere but here. If self-combustion were an option he’d take it.

“Ohoho!” Bokuto’s eyes slide back to Kuroo, positively glowing. Kuroo can hear his heartbeat in his ears and knows that all the blood is pooling in his face. That might help with his southern situation at least. “Were you having yourself a morning snack?”

“Shhh.” Kuroo hisses, twisting Bokuto’s ear sharply as a warning. “ _You’re_ the one who dragged me down here.”

“I didn’t realise I was interrupting.” Kuroo twists his ear again, scowling as menacingly as he can with a face as red as his is. Bokuto grins, and licks his lips slowly. “And in the same room as other people too. You’re such a dark horse, Kitty Cat.”

“I’m going to tear your ear off and shove it in your mouth if you don’t shut up.”

“I understand your frustration. No one would be happy about being dragged away mid-mouthful.” Kuroo twists Bokuto’s ear until his laughter dissolves into pained yelps.

“Weren’t you supposed to be upset?”

“Yes!” Bokuto nods, rubbing his ear. “I made a horrible, _awful_ mistake.”

“You mean other than this one?”

“Bro, this was no mistake.” Bokuto stares meaningfully at Sawamura. “This is a blessing. Did you know he was this big?”

“Bro!” Kuroo jams the heel of his palm into Bokuto’s nose, pushing his head back. “Stop- stop- stop _ogling_ my boyfriend!” Bokuto splutters, using his hands to prop himself up, and shakes his head in an attempt to get Kuroo’s hand out of his face. They both freeze as fresh air and light flood from above their heads.

“What the hell is going on?” Sawamura croaks, scrunching his nose and rubbing sleep from the corner of his eyes. Kuroo’s never heard his morning voice before.

“Ohoho,” bleats Bokuto, still hovering above Kuroo, but looking down instead of up at Sawamura. “Looks like someone else has joined the party.” Now that Sawamura’s awake, Kuroo’s able to wrench his left arm free. He jabs at the insides of Bokuto’s elbows, shoving him off to the side to crumple in a fit of giggles.

“Shit.” Kuroo pants, trying to roll onto his stomach so he can get up properly. Half-way he finds himself caught between Sawamura’s thigh and Bokuto’s shoulder, face to face once more with Sawamura’s pyjama trouser tent. He looks up, trying his best to remain nonchalant, and smiles.

“Oh my God!” Sawamura lurches violently, stabbing Kuroo in the face one last time before tumbling off the edge of the futon. He drags the blanket down with him and lands with a soft curse. “Tell me I’m dreaming.”

“You’re dreaming.” Chirps Bokuto, much too happily for Kuroo’s liking.

“What time is it?” Sawamura scrambles up onto his hands and knees, looking around the room as if it might provide him with some clues.

“In between early and late.” Supplies Bokuto as he drags his head up to peer over Kuroo and look at Sawamura. Sawamura regards Bokuto and then Kuroo in turn.

“Am I really awake?”

“Yeah,” Kuroo smiles sheepishly, “sorry about that. I tried to get him to shut up so we wouldn’t wake you.”

“You tried to push my nose bone into my brain.” Bokuto scowls.

“Okay.” Sawamura leans back onto his knees and wraps himself up in the blanket. “Okay.” He nods at the two of them. “So you tried not to wake me up as the both of you huddled around my- around me?” Sawamura’s face burns red and he shrinks further into the blanket. Bokuto chuckles loudly.

“Nah, I was trying to nab this guy and didn’t realise he was busy _nabbing_ you.” Bokuto waggles his eyebrows at Sawamura.

“You were trying to what?” Sawamura’s voice is impressively steady as he stares at Kuroo with wide eyes. “We’re in a room filled with people!”

“What? No!” The horror in Sawamura’s eyes doesn’t dissipate; Bokuto snorts in between laughs. “Bro!” Kuroo sits up and pushes Bokuto, grabbing handfuls of his hair to tug in random directions until he falls silent. Kuroo stares at Sawamura earnestly. “I was asleep I swear! Then _he_ ,” Kuroo indicates Bokuto by holding his head up by his hair, “tried to kidnap me out of the foot of the futon!”

“I made a grave mistake.” Bokuto adds, somewhat solemnly, as he hangs from Kuroo’s fist. Sawamura narrows his eyes suspiciously.

“So you weren’t trying to,” Sawamura swallows, eyes skittering away to stare at the wall, “nab me?” Kuroo groans, rolling onto his stomach and hiding his face in his hands.

“No!”

“Oh.” Kuroo tilts just enough so that he can get a look at Sawamura’s face; he has no idea what kind of an ‘oh’ that was. He doesn’t look as horrified anymore as he stares at his blanket covered knees. His face is so red it rivals Kuroo’s.

“Not because I don’t want to.” Kuroo whispers, chewing on his lip nervously when Sawamura snaps his head up to meet his gaze. “Just not here. In a room filled with people.” He parrots, trying to mimic Sawamura’s voice and earning himself a smile for his efforts. “And definitely not with Bokuto anywhere close by.” He adds firmly.

“Bro,” Bokuto whines from behind his back, “that’s so rude. So mean. So utterly _cruel_. We all know Captain Thighs over there has more than enough to share!”

“Oh my God.” Sawamura curls into the blanket, engulfing his head into soft folds of fabric. Kuroo scampers onto his knees, shuffling forwards and throwing an arm out behind him to hit Bokuto with. He doesn’t know what he hits but Bokuto makes a satisfyingly pained grunt. If Bokuto’s made his brand new boyfriend cry he's going employ Yamamoto and his shovel to bury him alive.

“Sawamura?” Kuroo flops over his back, curling around him like a protective shell and stares daggers at Bokuto.

“Of course,” Sawamura shudders underneath him, poking his head out of his blanket cocoon and smiling at Kuroo, “of course this is what being your boyfriend entails. I should have known.” He laughs again. Louder this time, right into the room instead of in his little cocoon. Kuroo’s body moves on its own, slinking down so that his mouth can slide onto Sawamura’s. Only for a moment, a small peck, before Bokuto coughs exaggeratedly.

“Sorry,” Kuroo smiles, not sorry at all, “you’re like a magnet.” Part of him wants to pry his way into Sawamura’s blanket domain and hide there with him forever.

“Nice morning breath.” Sawamura comments, licking his lips, “and morning to you too.”

“I’ve just witnessed something excellent.” Sawamura and Kuroo jerk to glare at Bokuto at the same time. He grins innocently and looks at his bare wrist. “Oh, would you look at the time! We should get breakfast!”

* * * *

Bokuto turns out to be correct; it is between early and late. They’re not the first to arrive for breakfast, but they’re not the last either. Kuroo spots Kenma sat by himself, clicking away on his console with a bowl of cereal mush untouched in front of him. For some strange reason Bokuto veers wildly off course when he sees him, face burning red and careens towards the food. Sawamura notices too, looking between Kenma and Bokuto curiously.

“Did he ever tell you why he was waking you up?”

“No,” Kuroo tips his head to the side, “we got a little side-tracked.”

“Tsukki!” Bokuto screeches from the fruit section, dropping half a dozen oranges onto the floor and causing both Kuroo and Sawamura to jolt to attention. Kuroo watches as Bokuto laughs shrilly and forcefully, picking up the oranges. Tsukishima raises an eyebrow, saying nothing, but bends down to help him.

“He’s acting really weird.” Sawamura mutters in his ear, frown deepening as Bokuto fumbles through a thank you and stares after Tsukishima as he wanders over to where Yamaguchi and Kageyama are eating. Kuroo hums thoughtfully.

“I wonder if he slept.” Sometimes Bokuto works himself up about something and ends up staying up all night long. Kuroo follows Sawamura to pick up some breakfast, noting the food Sawamura favours for future reference. Even though Bokuto had a head start and only has an armful of oranges he still takes the longest, sitting down next to Sawamura and eyeing Kenma opposite him warily. Kuroo nudges Kenma’s side.

“Mhm?” Kenma doesn’t look up from his game, nodding slightly to indicate he’s listening.

“Morning Pudding Head,” Kuroo prompts, smiling proudly when Kenma greets each of them in turn. Bokuto squirms uncomfortably in his seat. “Bro,” Kuroo watches him carefully, “what’s going on?”

“Uhmm,” Bokuto’s eyes dart all over the canteen. He plucks an orange from the pile and starts peeling it rapidly. “Uhmm,” he shifts in his seat, leaning in closer to Sawamura and then jolting away suddenly when their shoulders touch, almost as if he’s surprised to find Sawamura there at all. He looks at the side of Sawamura’s face, frowning deeply.

“Want to switch places?” Bokuto nods, eyes wide with wonder when Sawamura simply chuckles at him and gets up. Bokuto scrambles across so that he’s sat in front of Kuroo and stares at him.

“Bro!” Next to him Sawamura slides his bowl over and rolls his eyes at Kuroo. Kuroo really wants to kiss him for being so understanding and patient. Anyone that’s nice to Bokuto is his favourite.

“I’m listening.” Kuroo nods, leaning his arm across to flick the tip of Bokuto’s nose.

“Uhmmm,” Bokuto’s entire face scrunches up. He narrows his eyes at Kenma. “Oh! Okay! I know! On _average_ how many gay people are there?”

“I don’t know.” Kuroo shrugs. “Four out of four if we use our table as a sample.” Next to him Kenma scowls.

“I don’t think I’m gay.” He mutters.

“You’re literally dating a boy.” Kuroo points out, suddenly unsure if Kenma and Hinata have actually officially become boyfriend and boyfriend. If not he could claim he meant dating in the sense that they’ve been on dates. Skype dates count.

“Doesn’t make me gay.” Kenma looks up from his game to regard Kuroo, a faint tinge of pink working its way onto his cheeks. “Shouyou’s the first, after all.” He smiles. “I looked up some stuff online. I didn’t really understand everything, but there are people who only experience sexual attraction after romantic affection.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” Kenma nods, returning to his game, “I’m probably one of those kinds of people.”

“So you’re what? Shrimp-sexual?” Kenma nods again, the pink taking over most of his face. Kuroo throws an arm around his shoulders. “You’re the cutest kid in the entire world, I can’t believe it.” He flutters his eyelashes at Sawamura opposite. “Your shrimp is the luckiest boy.”

“The same argument could be made for you,” Kenma adds slyly, “that you’re Sawamura-sexual.”

“Nah, he pervs over everyone all the time.” Bokuto’s moved onto peeling his third orange.

“True,” Kenma concedes, ignoring Kuroo as he kicks Bokuto under the table, “but as he’s never been involved with anyone else, the argument could still be made.” Bokuto laughs, offering up his freshly peeled orange to Kuroo as a peace offering. Kuroo holds the back of his hand across his forehead, accepting it graciously.

“Wait. What?” Sawamura’s staring at Kenma with wide eyes. His spoon hangs suspended in mid-air.

“Oh.” Kenma blinks over the top of his game. “You didn’t know.” He lowers his head into his game again, ears burning. Sawamura looks at Kuroo.

“What does that mean? You’ve never been involved with anyone else?”

“Ah. Well, you’re my first boyfriend, of course.” Kuroo smiles, not really getting why this is something for Sawamura to be freaking out over.

“Kuroo,” Sawamura lowers his spoon, face blank, “why didn’t you say something?”

“Huh?” Kuroo scratches the back of his neck. “Why would I? It didn’t seem important.”

“Ohoho,” Bokuto grins, eyes darting back and forth between Kuroo and Sawamura. “Does that mean,” he stares delightedly at Kuroo, “you've never told him he was your first kiss?”

“ _What?_ ” Sawamura’s mouth drops open. “I don’t believe this.”

“It just never came up,” Kuroo defends, pouting, “I don’t see why it matters… unless… I’m a really bad kisser aren’t I?” Sawamura groans, leaning his elbows on the table and dropping his head into his hands.

“You’re really dense, Kuroo.” Kenma tells him in a quiet voice.

“The first time we kissed you thought I was dating Suga.” Sawamura groans from behind his hands. “That’s not how a first kiss should be at all!”

“Oh?” Kuroo grins. “Perhaps you can show me later.” He laughs happily, tearing off a segment of orange when the other three groan in unison. “Anyway, weren’t we supposed to be discussing your problem?” He spits a seed out of his mouth at Bokuto.

“Right!” Bokuto nods belatedly, “so there are one hundred percent gays? Or,” he waves a hand at Kenma, “one hundred percent on the gay spectrum?”

“I don’t think that’s accurate.” Kenma doesn’t look up from his game.

“Why does it matter?” Sawamura peeks over the top of his hands.

“Uhmm.” Bokuto shifts again, tilting his head at Kenma curiously.

“No!” Kuroo leans away from the table, studying Bokuto and Kenma through narrowed eyes. “Kenma already knows, doesn’t he?! That’s why you were so flustered!” Neither of them denies it. “I can’t believe it; I thought I was your number one bro!”

“I didn’t _tell_ him!” Splutters Bokuto, pointing a finger at Kenma accusingly.

“I was a witness.” Kenma’s eyes slide over the top of his game briefly. “Getting statistics on homosexuals is a strange way to segue into this.”

“Unless something homosexual took place.” Sawamura stares at Bokuto’s profile, thoughtfully. “Other than you climbing into bed with us this morning.” Kenma shudders, hunching down further in his seat.

“Not like that!” Kuroo whacks Kenma gently.

“Uhmm,” Bokuto grabs another orange, “if I don’t tell them now, are you going to?” Kenma frowns.

“What does it matter since you’re telling them now?”

“But if I _didn’t_ , for example, would you?”

“But you are going to tell them…”

“But, consider this: if I _wasn’t_ going to tell them, would they find out _through_ you?”

“What is this, Schrödinger’s gossip?” Sawamura sighs deeply. “I can live with not knowing. You don’t have to tell me.”

“I don’t agree to that!” Kuroo steals the freshly peeled orange from Bokuto’s fingers, “after how you woke me up this morning I deserve to know!” Even though he knows Kenma would tell him later on, he’d prefer to hear it straight from the source.

“I see.” Bokuto hums. “Say, how many people in Karasuno are on the spectrum of gay?”

“Three!” Shouts Kuroo.

“Four.” Sawamura smiles at Kuroo wickedly.

“At least seven,” corrects Kenma in a whisper, “but I have money on nine before I graduate.”

“Seven?” Kuroo stares at Kenma, baffled. He wonders if he’s noticed this himself or has been told by the shrimp.

“Really?” Sawamura furrows his eyebrows.

“That is close to one hundred percent gay.” Bokuto notes solemnly.

“He said _on the spectrum_ ,” Kenma explains, “that includes bisexuals, right?”

“Who’s bisexual?” Bokuto perks up, suddenly interested.

“Shouyou, probably.”

“I included him in my four.” Sawamura’s mouth curves downwards.

“Shit!” Kuroo’s prompted into realisation only because of a loud disruption caused by the tricycle two tables over. “ _Bi_ -cycle, right?” Kenma shrugs, he’s never been one to talk about people, but it’s a shrug Kuroo knows well: he’s right.

“I assumed six until this morning.” Kenma replies instead, shifting the attention back onto Bokuto.

“Oh my God!” Sawamura narrows his eyes. “Who did you kiss?” He opens his mouth again before snapping it shut, clearly not wanting to out his number four.

“Wah! No! I didn’t do any kissing! I was attacked.” Bokuto flops down onto the mound of orange peel. “He totally kissed me. I didn’t see it coming at all!” His golden eyes blink up at Kuroo. “I was not excellent at all, bro.”

“Impossible, bro! I’m sure you’re a very excellent kisser.” Bokuto smiles weakly.

“I think I could be. But I was confused. And I couldn’t see!”

“You couldn’t see?” Sawamura raises an eyebrow.

“Not properly.” Bokuto raises his head. “I woke up really early, right? Because I needed to pee.”

“Good kisses happen in the bathroom.” Kuroo says seriously, thinking about Sawamura wrapped in his legs last night.

“And I borrowed Tsukki’s glasses right. Because they’re really funny!”

“Naturally.” Kuroo nods at the same time that Sawamura’s mouth falls open.

“No!” He leans forward, dropping his voice to barely above a whisper. “ _You kissed Tsukishima_?”

“I already told you; _he_ kissed _me_!” Bokuto laments, dropping his face back onto the orange peel.

“Oh my God.” Sawamura leans back, face pale. “It’s too early for this.”

“Mhm.” Kenma hums, snapping his console closed, “well, practice starts in five minutes so I’m going to go get changed.” Sawamura watches Kenma leave with a concerned frown.

“Don’t worry,” Kuroo reassures him, “he’s never been comfortable talking about people.” He’s a little surprised Kenma lasted this long. Sawamura nods dazedly.

“He’s right though, practice does start in five minutes.” Kuroo starts, looking around and realising that at some point the canteen has become filled with noise and people. Sawamura looks consideringly at the two of them. “So we should probably get going ourselves?”

“Right, right.” Kuroo stands up, stretching an arm out to Bokuto who takes it with a pitiful whine. They clear their table in silence, Kuroo trying not to be obvious as he searches for Tsukishima; he must have already left.

“Is that why you wanted to be his friend?” He asks as Sawamura scoops up the orange peel.

“No! I swear bro! He seems really excellent; I wanted to be his friend.” He deflates, shoulders slumping. “What if he won’t be my friend now?” Kuroo pinches his cheek.

“Of course he wants to be your friend.” Probably more than that, Kuroo imagines.

“He seemed pretty angry at me.” Bokuto pouts. “He said I was annoying.”

“He called you annoying? But he kissed you?” It’s clear that Sawamura is skeptical on the who kissed who front.

“Yeah! Right before he kissed me! He was all _you’re so annoying_. I don’t get it at all!” Bokuto slumps even further down and Kuroo doesn’t envy Fukurodani at all; his moods are going to be haywire today.

“Maybe he meant annoying as in: I’m so annoyed by how impossible it is not to kiss you?” Kuroo hedges, sympathising with Tsukishima if this is the case; he feels the same way about Sawamura constantly. Bokuto perks up a little.

“That would be annoying.” He agrees. They walk Bokuto back to his room, and it isn’t until he’s about to disappear behind his door that Kuroo suddenly remembers what Bokuto had said at the last training camp, when he’d decided to kiss Tsukishima in their game.

“Hey, bro.” Bokuto turns to look at him, blinking owlishly. “Did his glasses fog up?” Bokuto’s smile blooms slowly.

“Yeah.” He chuckles a little. “Yeah they did. I was just on the wrong side of them.” Kuroo waits until the door swings closed before turning back to Sawamura. He feels weirdly happy and holds out his hand; Sawamura takes it with an eye roll and pink cheeks.

“How steamy.” Kuroo comments, looking down at their joint hands fondly. “Who knew Tsukki would be an aggressive kisser?”

“It makes sense I suppose.” Sawamura wrinkles his nose. “Do you think Kenma was serious when he said seven?”

“Seven-going-on-nine.” Kuroo thinks about it. “I don’t see why he’d lie. And with you and Suga as Captain and Vice-Captain, what did you expect?”

“What does that mean?” They pause outside Karasuno’s room.

“Just,” Kuroo attempts to gesture at Sawamura, forgetting that he’s holding onto his hand and ends up wiggling their arms about in the middle. “ _Look_ at you, and look at Suga. If I were a small gay child, roaming around trying to find a sports club to join… well, it’s a pretty obvious choice.” Sawamura laughs brightly, eyes crinkling in the way that Kuroo knows means he finds what he’s said really funny.

“I’d see your point if it weren’t for the fact that Karasuno is made up entirely of volleyball obsessed players. They all sought out us because they wanted to play volleyball! Nobody stumbled into it.”

“Hm.” Kuroo didn’t know that. Tsukishima and Freckles in particular don’t act like people who actively chose volleyball. “My second theory is that Miyagi has prime soil for growing gays.” Sawamura bumps his arm with his shoulder.

“No more theories.” He says firmly, smirk tipping up one side of his mouth. “And it’s people on the spectrum of gay. Didn’t you listen to Kenma at all?” The door opens abruptly in front of them, Noya and Tanaka appearing with wild expressions.

“Oh! Daichi-san! Kuroo-san!” Tanaka points at each of them in turn. “Get out of your pyjamas!”

“Practice starts in ten, nine, eight,” Noya proclaims, echoing each number behind cupped hands as he skips passed them and down the corridor.

“You best prepare yourself to lose, Pretty Boy!” Tanaka adds, punching Kuroo’s shoulder as he dashes passed him. “Karasuno is in top form today!” Their laughter echoes up the stairwell.

“ _Pretty Boy_?” Kuroo looks down at all six feet of himself. He’s been called Lanky before, Rooster Head too (both of these by Hinata in one conversation in fact), but Pretty Boy is a new one. Sawamura punches him lightly on his other shoulder.

“Why do you look so surprised?” Sawamura chuckles. “You’re the prettiest person I know.” He ducks inside his room with a casual ‘see ya later’ before Kuroo can get a proper look at his red face.

“No fair!” He shouts at the door, listening to Sawamura’s answering laugh before running to his own room to get changed.

* * * *

“Kuroo.” Kenma tugs on Kuroo’s sleeve, eyes fixed on Hinata as he flies on court. Kuroo follows his line of sight, and Kenma doesn’t even have to look at him to know he’s smiling.

“I guess Dark and Stormy and shrimpy are working it out?” Kenma’s fist tightens around his sleeve.

“Mhm. You were right. All they need to do is practice hard.” There’s something about watching Hinata play volleyball that makes Kenma feel a little bit lighter than usual. Not like he personally wants to try harder exactly, but like he understands why someone else would. Hinata makes volleyball look worth the effort.

“Enough gawking.” Kuroo ruffles the top of his hair. “We only have one more match before break time.”

“Against?”

“Ubugawa.” Kuroo starts walking towards their court, leading Kenma along by the sleeve he’s still clamped onto. “And we’re going to win, right?” Kenma knows when Kuroo’s trying to fire him up.

“Right.” He assents as dispassionately as possible. He knows that will annoy Kuroo the most.

They win, of course. Kuroo’s been in a good mood all morning and after watching Hinata spring about on court, even Kenma exerts a little more effort than usual. Not too much though – Ubugawa isn’t Karasuno. He waits on the grassy hill outside for Hinata to finish his forfeits, breathing in the air as he sits crossed legged, clicking away on his own save file of Fantasy Life. People always assume he doesn’t like the outdoors, but he finds it calming provided there aren’t loud people around.

“Waah!” Hinata flops down on his back next to Kenma, stretching his arms out above his head like a starfish and showing off a sliver of skin where his top rides up. He smiles, eyes closed, basking in the sun. This is probably the first time Kenma’s seen him wholly happy since camp started.

“I’m really glad Kageyama’s your setter.” If either of them had gone to a different school then they wouldn’t have grown into the players they are today.

“Me too. He’s really cool.” Hinata peaks one eye open, squinting at Kenma carefully. “I want you to meet him.”

“I know who Kageyama is…”

“No, properly.” Hinata rolls onto his side, curling around Kenma’s knee. He brings a hand up and starts drawing circles lazily on his leg. “Like, I want to you to _meet_ him meet him.” Kenma pauses his game and looks down at Hinata. “I want you to meet everyone really, but Kageyama’s the most important.”

“Okay.” Kenma wants what Hinata wants. Maybe he shouldn’t, but there’s not much he’s willing to refuse if it means he gets to watch Hinata’s smile glow across his face like that.

“I know he’s grumpy and an idiot, but he’s not _completely_ bad.” Hinata’s face scrunches up. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

“Shouyou,” Kenma places a hand on Hinata’s head tentatively, softly combing his hair. He’s still not sure what he is and isn’t allowed to do and often feels like he wants too much simply because he’s not used to wanting anyone at all, but Hinata hums happily, leaning into his touch. “I already said okay.”

“Cool. I knew you’d say yes. Kageyama drives a harder bargain.”

“Oh?” Hinata rolls his head to look at Kenma fully, pouting in a way that’s entirely unfair.

“He said it would be embarrassing just the three of us. Like he’d feel I was bringing you home to meet the parents or something.” His fingers pause in their circle making, sliding up an inch to rest just below the bottom of Kenma’s shorts. “He said maybe you could just come and hang out in Karasuno’s room with all of us later?”

“So… Meet everyone? All at once?” An Official Introduction. Even though they all already know each other. It is kind of embarrassing when he thinks of it like that.

“I guess.” Hinata blinks, wide-eyed and innocent. “I was thinking we could all play a game and just hang out normally. It will be completely normal! And you like games!”

“What kind of game?” Hinata’s eyes light up and Kenma knows right then and there that he’s lost. He’s already in Karasuno’s room this evening playing a game because there’s no way he can turn Hinata down after letting him get this excited.

“Well! I spoke to Ennoshita-senpai this morning because Tanaka-senpai said he had brought a few games.” Kenma nods to show he’s listening. “He has this one where you pick coloured armies and try to take over the world! It’s meant to be for six people but he said we can just make six teams!” Hinata jolts up suddenly, face dangerously close to Kenma’s lap. “It sounds so cool! And I know Kageyama will want to play if everyone is playing. And everyone is going to play!”

“Everyone?” Kenma quite likes Ennoshita, so he’s comforted by the knowledge that it’s his game and he seems to be at the forefront of the idea. And he’s grown used to Sawamura’s warming presence. But everyone else is a little bit of a gamble. Kenma doesn’t know if he’ll last for as long as it takes for a team to take over the world. Suga he supposes is nice, but he feels uneasy around people who are unpredictable and difficult to read. That’s not even thinking about being in the same room as Tsukishima after what he saw this morning, and the fuss Tanaka and Noya are bound to make if Hinata actually intends to formally introduce him.

“It will be fun! We can be a team together! Just the two of us, okay?”

“What about Kageyama?” Hinata might have started to lose sight of the purpose of this activity.

“It’s more fun if we beat him,” Hinata rolls his eyes like that’s obvious, “but we can sit next to his team so you can become friends!”

“Okay.” Kenma barrels on quickly, before Hinata can get more worked up. “Only if I can bring Yamamoto and Kuroo.” Yamamoto to distract Tanaka and Noya – even if he’s equally as manic he knows Kenma well enough to know when to stop – and Kuroo for support. Hinata crows happily into the sky.

“Bring whoever you want!” Kenma thinks he might ask Yaku to come with him too, maybe then the ratio of crazy people to normal people will be more balanced. “Today is shaping up to be the best day ever!” Hinata leans up and presses his forehead against Kenma’s for a second. He smells of something familiar, but before Kenma really has a chance to process, he’s springing back and jumping to his feet. “I’m going to tell everyone not to make any other plans for tonight!” Which, Kenma thinks, is entirely unnecessary; they’re at a training camp and Hinata’s plan involves his team staying in their room. He watches him tumble down the hill, sighing as he starts up his game again.

“Ah.” He realises, looking over his screen to see if Hinata is still in sight and frowning when he’s not. It was cherry. For a second he was sure Hinata smelt like cherries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tsukki: you're so annoying *shoves Bokuto into wall*
> 
> I honestly feel like I cheated you out of the best scene but no matter how many times I tried to write it it sounded rubbish. T^T


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did that thing again where I joined a fic exchange & got a smidge distracted by it. :;(∩´﹏`∩);: Sorry, sorry. 
> 
> If you fancy reading it it's here; http://archiveofourown.org/works/6255202 (TsukkiHina university AU ? with background TanaNoya ?)

“Hey,” Sawamura side eyes Suga as they begin running their forfeits. They’ve just lost their third match of the day against Nekoma. Yesterday he felt like the gap was getting smaller. He’d hoped that today they might win one, especially when Hinata and Kageyama appeared to be making progress and with Noya and Tanaka fired up. He should have expected Kuroo to be equally as spirited; he’s had that goofy smile on all day. Every time anyone managed to take a point for either team Kuroo cheered loudly, often congratulating the player by name. At one point Sawamura was sure he was going to duck under the net and tackle Tanaka he was so excited for him and after the match he’d run over and picked Hinata up, squeezing him until Kenma had dragged him away. Sawamura liked watching this Kuroo.

“I blame you for this.” Suga huffs back. “Hinata-chan too.”

“What did we do?” Sawamura frowns. He knows Hinata isn’t playing his best because he’s still not worked everything out with Kageyama, but they were better today. And maybe he was being too obvious when admiring Kuroo, but it’s nearly impossible not to follow the arch of his arms and the flex of his muscles every time he jumps for a block.

“Made them happy.” Suga grumbles, as if happy people are his least favourite thing when Sawamura knows that Suga is only at his happiest when everyone else is too. “They’re more troublesome when they’re happy.”

“Huh.” It’s true; Kenma had been playing better too, more focused and self-assured than Sawamura can remember seeing him. Karasuno had struggled to win a set against them, let alone a match. He might have found this disheartening, but he knew that the sets were taking longer and they nearly always finished with Karasuno in the high-twenties. Plus, seeing Kuroo’s blissed out face whenever the final whistle blew and his team were victorious softened his own defeat somewhat. He’d never expected it to. He had always thought that unless he could beat Kuroo and prove to him that he was his equal, he’d always feel frustrated, like he wasn’t enough. But it’s not like that at all. Mostly he feels proud that Kuroo’s his boyfriend. He gets the urge to tell people when Kuroo makes a particularly good play. _Did you see that? That’s my boyfriend._ Of all the teams he’s ever lost to it feels the best losing against Nekoma; it only makes him want to beat them all the more. “I’d only want us to beat them at their best.” Suga looks at him for a moment.

“Yeah,” he giggles, “me too.” They take a second to breathe before turning around and running back down the hill. Sawamura looks ahead; he knows Suga’s the best at giving advice but that doesn’t make it any less embarrassing.

“How many people do you think Kitty Cat’s kissed?”

“Well, he’s Captain of a powerhouse Tokyo team.” Suga hums. “Plus he’s got some of the best legs I’ve ever seen.”

“And a cute face.”

“And a cute face,” Suga agrees. “Great shoulders. Excellent bum.” Sawamura shoves him as they turn around to begin running uphill once again.

“I have eyes.” He reminds him. “I know he’s beautiful.”

“Okay, okay.” Suga giggles. “I’d say at least half a dozen. Probably closer to a dozen. Depending on if he’s into girls.” Sawamura glances at him, noting Suga’s scrunched nose and knowing he’s giving him a serious answer. “He probably gets at least one confession a week. But he doesn’t seem like the type to mess around. He’s a little vanilla.”

“That’s what I thought too.” Sawamura admits. Ever since he first met Kuroo he'd assumed he was the type who opened his locker everyday only to be crushed by an avalanche of confession letters.

“Oh?” Suga’s mouth tips up into a sly grin. “So I’m wrong?”

“Mhm.” Sawamura waits until they’ve started to run back down before he tells him. It’s more fun to keep Suga waiting a little bit, especially when he’s perked up with such blatant interest; it’s not often that Sawamura finds out something before Suga does. “I found out this morning he’s only ever kissed one person.”

“Other than you?”

“Including me.”

“No!” Suga stumbles in his run, mouth dropping open. “How is that possible?”

“It isn’t! It’s completely impossible!” Unless all of Tokyo is blind. And deaf; Kuroo’s laugh is enough to churn Sawamura’s insides into mush.

“Who told you?” Sawamura knows that Suga is already questioning whether or not he’s been told this by a reliable source. To him it’s probably more likely that Sawamura’s been misinformed.

“Bokuto.” He carries on before Suga can interrupt, “but Kenma and Kuroo were both there. He didn’t seem to think it was a big deal.”

“I judge every single person that goes to school with him.” Suga sounds like this news has deeply troubled him. “Especially those in his class. Especially everyone on his team. They see him _all_ the time! What a waste!”

“Maybe,” Sawamura can hear the smugness in his own voice but doesn’t care in the slightest, “people have tried to kiss him before but he’s just never wanted to.” It’s possible he has a reputation for heartlessly rejecting people. Suga laughs next to him.

“Oh I see. You stole his first kiss.”

“And his second.” Suga laughs louder. “And his third.” Although maybe every kiss that came after the first has been given and not stolen. They don’t pause before turning around this time; Sawamura’s legs burn in protest.

“I didn’t know you were so possessive.”

“Me either.” Before, when he harboured a secret crush on Kuroo that was apparently obvious to everyone except for Kuroo, he’d go home and think about the type of person Kuroo would want to kiss. A gentle girlfriend maybe who would be there to congratulate him after every match and have to stand on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Perhaps he was into fiercer girls, girls with piercings and brash voices that would drag him into the girls’ toilets at school and straddle him in a cubicle. Or maybe a boyfriend who’d wish he had more free time so used the little time they did have to kiss him senseless, tugging on his hair roughly. There could be an old teammate who has already graduated and is studying at a local university; they’d visit Kuroo every weekend for practice followed by passionate, sweaty make out sessions. Sawamura has spent many an hour envying people who don’t exist. For that one morning he’d even laid awake in Kuroo’s bed thinking up all the ways Bokuto had chased after his lips.

“You’re gross.” Suga pushes him with both hands, smile teasing. “Day dreaming about all the kinky things you can teach him! Out in the daylight too. Shame on you Captain. There are baby crows around.”

“That’s not what I was doing!” Sawamura splutters, face burning. He’s not even sure he knows anything kinky.

“But you are the more experienced one.” Suga points out, as if Sawamura hadn’t already realised that. “He might expect you to take charge.” Sawamura frowns; so far that hadn’t been the case at all. In fact last night Kuroo had made all the first moves.

“I’m not really worried about that.”

“Oh.” Suga sucks in a breath as they start back down the hill, running a little faster than before as if he simply wants to get the forfeits over and done with. “Then what did you need my advice for? Or did you just want to brag?”

“The first time we kissed he thought I was dating you.” For Sawamura that kiss has been one of the highlights of his life. It’s a strong contender for the bravest thing he’s ever done and came with all the added perks of a soft, morning Kuroo blushing before him in a ridiculous apron. Sure he had been terrified, but mostly in a good way. Kuroo lived that kiss with an entirely different set of emotions and none of them, Sawamura worried, would be as fond as his own.

“ _Oh_.” Suga falls silent for a while and Sawamura wonders if he’s imagining how he’d feel if the guy he liked but was sadly dating someone else kissed him. “Well he’s dating you now, so he probably thinks of that kiss differently than how he did before.”

“Maybe.” Sawamura concedes, pivoting to start back up the hill again. “But for a week he thought that his first kiss had gone to some guy who already had a boyfriend.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it.” Suga whacks him on the back of the head. “Kitty Cat doesn’t seem like the type to think about things so deeply. At the time he might have been confused and upset but now he knows he probably looks back and finds it a little funny. I bet he stays up imagining all the kissing you could have gotten done if he had known you were single and lusting after him.” Which is incidentally what Sawamura thought about as he drifted off to sleep the night he found out.

“I guess.” Sawamura still feels guilty. For all he knows Kuroo had been saving his first kiss and Sawamura didn’t even ask, just grabbed him and took it.

“The only thing you can do is apologise.” Suga groans as they turn around again. “But I’m telling you, he’s probably really happy that you got his first kiss.”

* * * *

“Ohoho!” Kuroo blinks, staring at the door and nudging Bokuto. Tsukishima doesn’t disappear.

“Ohoho?” Bokuto doesn’t sound as confident or teasing as Kuroo would like. He doesn’t even move towards Tsukishima and try to drag him further into the gym like he did yesterday. Instead he stands his ground, shifting from foot to foot and tipping his head at an angle. Tsukishima doesn’t enter on his own like yesterday either, doesn’t bow politely and ask if he can ask them something. Kuroo looks between the two of them; Bokuto is chewing on his lip and if Kuroo didn’t know any better Tsukishima is pouting. How awkward.

“Oho.” Kuroo bleats weakly into the silence, unsure if he’s supposed to intervene or politely excuse himself. If he left would they end up fighting or kissing?

“Tsukishima.” Akaashi nods, face blank, and throws him the ball. “You’re late.” Precisely nobody is fooled by this; it’s obvious Tsukishima didn’t have plans to join them and Bokuto looks just as dumbfounded as Kuroo feels. “Kuroo-san.” Akaashi raises an eyebrow at Kuroo, gesturing at the other side of the net. “Two verses two.”

“Ohoho! I bet you’ve been just waiting for an excuse to be on my team Akaashi-kun.” Kuroo teases, latching onto Akaashi and dragging him along. Maybe Akaashi had assumed he’d grab Tsukishima, but it’s infinitely more fun this way.

“Of course,” Akaashi plays along nicely, “it’s all I can think about most days.” Bokuto squawks indignantly, puffing out his chest to complain and the tension around them disappears along with it. Tsukishima nods, pushing his glasses up his nose as he joins Bokuto on his side of the court. He still has the ball and without sparing a second glance to anyone he clears his throat.

“Service.” And just like that he throws the ball up. Kuroo’s a little shocked, darting forwards to receive it so that Akaashi can set to him. Usually Bokuto would flap about until Akaashi was returned to him as his setter, maybe chase Kuroo around and attempt to choke him in a head lock and would definitely demand to not have first serve; it means he doesn’t get first spike. But instead Bokuto grins widely, whooping at Tsukishima’s serve and laughing delightedly when he jumps to block Kuroo’s spike. He fails and Bokuto’s so pre-occupied with cheering Tsukishima on that he makes no attempt to catch the ball himself. It bounces off the floor.

“One nil to the Black Beauties.” Kuroo rolls his neck to swish his hair around and smirks at Tsukishima.

“Some of my hair is black!” Bokuto points out, running his hands up his spikes.

“I’m flattered, bro.” Kuroo holds a hand over his heart. “You didn’t correct me on the beautiful part.”

“Akaashi is on your team.” Tsukishima reasons, smirk growing when Bokuto claps him on the back delightedly. He kicks the ball under the net to Kuroo.

“We’ll be taking the rest of the points!” Bokuto jumps back into place. Tsukishima’s eyes follow his every movement, the smallest dab of pink appearing high on his cheeks. It’s a little embarrassing, Kuroo thinks, wondering if he’s ever been this obvious when Sawamura’s around. Kuroo takes his place behind the line, stopping just before he serves.

“Ney, what’s your team name?” Things are more fun with team names.

“Looks Cute In Glasses!” Before anyone has a chance to react Bokuto double takes at the door. “Ohoho, Tsukki did you bring a friend?” Tsukishima shakes his head a little, as if to clear it.

“Pardon?” He follows the direction of Bokuto’s gaze, frowning when he notices Hinata. “What happened to your partner?” The sarcastic lilt he uses for partner is lost on Hinata who answers earnestly.

“Kageyama is practicing on his own. I was trying to get Kenma to toss to me but he ran away after the fifth one!”

“It’s amazing that you got Kenma to even give you that many.” Kuroo notes, half-impressed by Hinata’s persistence and half-glad that Kenma’s finally found someone that holds his interest. If only for a little while where volleyball is concerned. Hinata takes in a big breath, cheeks puffing up.

“So!” He sounds way more determined than the situation warrants. Out of nowhere Lev appears next to him, smile and eyes wide.

“Please let me practice with you!” They scream in unison. Akaashi sighs. Of course the one time they had managed to start practicing without any antics from Bokuto is when they’d find themselves interrupted.

“Lev,” Kuroo cuts across Hinata and Lev’s screams of surprise at finding each other here, “I thought Yaku wanted to practice with you?”

“Uhm,” Lev cringes, losing at least three inches off of his height, “he said I was doing so well today that he let me go.”

“Really?” Kuroo deadpans. This sounds like the opposite of what would happen. “Sure you didn’t run away?”

“Of course not!” Lev straightens his back again. If Hinata weren’t here he’d probably reject Lev and force him to go back to Yaku. But Hinata is here, blinking around the gym hopefully and Kuroo wouldn’t turn him down even if he didn’t owe him a lot.

“Well whatever. We have the right number of people for a three on three now.”

“Eh.” Tsukishima looks severely unimpressed by this turn of events, quirking an eyebrow as Hinata and Lev explode into excited screams behind him. Lev gravitates automatically to Kuroo’s side, asking where he should stand, and for some reason Hinata floats towards Bokuto, eyes shining. Bokuto starts to find him so close, ruffling his hair and calling across to Akaashi at how cute he is. Tsukishima narrows his eyes at the two of them and changes sides silently.

“Ohoho?” Kuroo laughs at the sour expression on Tsukishima’s face. “Jealous?” There’s really no point in pretending that Hinata isn’t cute, especially when he’s chirping excitedly from under Bokuto’s hands and Kuroo likes Tsukishima just a little bit more when even he seems to have accepted it as a fact. He doesn’t try to deny he’s jealous either, facing away from Kuroo and pushing his glasses back up his nose.

“Really Bokuto-san,” Akaashi rolls his eyes, ducking under the net to make the teams even, “you were doing so well up until then.” Bokuto doesn’t notice, grabbing Akaashi’s hand to pet Hinata’s head and cooing over how soft his hair is.

“So,” Kuroo spins the volleyball on the tip of his finger, “Cats versus Owls?” Akaashi tips his head.

“Aren’t the teams a little unbalanced?” He asks, staring at Tsukishima as if he’ll change his mind and swap back with him. When he doesn’t Kuroo barrels on.

“It’s fine!” Lev and Hinata smile obliviously. Tsukishima stares across the net, down at Hinata consideringly. He doesn’t look as annoyed as before, maybe realising that Hinata has no idea the effect he has on people.

The teams work pretty well, all things considered. Lev and Tsukishima struggle with the placement of their feet and timing, but watching each other make the same mistakes seems to help them correct their own more than having Kuroo explain it does. As usual Lev has too much energy and Tsukishima seems to not have enough, but after a few plays they level out into a middle zone that seems right for the both of them.

On the other side of the court Akaashi appears to be tired by not only having to deal with Bokuto but Hinata too. However Kuroo knows him better than that; he’s secretly pleased. Bokuto’s not had a single dejected mode since the appearance of Tsukishima and the endless barrage of compliments from Hinata; he’s playing better now than he had done for the most part of today.

“He did say Hinata would be taking over for him.” Akaashi tells Kuroo, looking on fondly as Bokuto explains to Hinata how to use his opponents block to get a rebound.

“I wanted to adopt him myself, but I guess Bokuto’s beat me to it.” He’ll have to be content with Hinata being his brother-in-law when he finally marries Kenma. Would that make Bokuto his uncle? Tsukishima his aunt?

“Adopt him?” Lev is yet to master lowering his voice, speaking loud enough that Tsukishima turns to regard them on his way back from fetching the ball.

“Well obviously Bokuto sees Hinata as a son.” Kuroo rolls his eyes at Lev, smiling happily to himself when Tsukishima’s eyes open a little wider and he swivels his head to stare at the two bird brains opposite.

“You’re too kind Kuroo-san,” Akaashi whispers as he wanders back over into position, “I’d have let him fret over it for at least another hour.”

* * * *

“Ohoho, Sawamura!” Bokuto cries out. He and Hinata have taken the lead of their group, borderline running so as not to miss dinner. Kuroo isn’t too far behind, wedged in between Lev who won’t stop talking and Tsukishima who is silently tapping out a message on his phone. Akaashi lingers behind them, chatting with the two managers from Fukurodani who had poked their heads into the gym and reminded them they were late for dinner. It must be nice to have girls on the team. Bokuto pauses outside the doors, and leans against the wall. “What brings you here?” Hinata shuffles passed him, bounding over to where Kenma’s already laid out food for them.

“Waiting for him actually.” Sawamura smiles, catching Kuroo’s eye. He only seems embarrassed after realising Tsukishima is with them.

“Oh!” Bokuto waggles his eyebrows. “Well then we’ll just-” Instead of finishing his sentence he grabs hold of Tsukishima and Lev and drags them bodily into the canteen, shouting at Akaashi to hurry up.

“Oh?” Kuroo likes it when Sawamura doesn’t bother to hide his fondness for him. Sure, maybe he hasn’t told his entire team – it’s only been a day after all and Kuroo himself has only told Kenma, and Bokuto and Hinata and Akaashi and Yamamoto and Yaku, who probably guessed it anyway, so doesn’t really count – but hanging outside of the canteen openly waiting for Kuroo, where anyone could see or ask him, is public enough for Kuroo. A giddy kind of warmth bubbles up inside him.

“Why do you look so happy?” Sawamura crosses his arms over his chest, raising one eyebrow and looking at Kuroo suspiciously.

“No reason.” Kuroo shrugs, smiling wider. Maybe if they were stood in a different corridor he’d crowd Sawamura up against it and growl down into his ear something else, a cooler answer. _Why do you think?_ But they aren’t elsewhere. He can hear the laughter of their teams trickling out of the door and the clatter of cutlery. Sawamura opens his mouth like he wants to push the matter, but closes it again and shakes his head. He unfolds his arms slowly, staring at Kuroo intensely. He can’t tell if Sawamura starts to blush first and that’s why his face feels so hot or if Sawamura caught it from him, but in the seconds it takes for Sawamura to have clasped his hands together in front of himself both of their faces catch aflame. Sawamura breaks eye contact to bow his head deeply.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is steady. Sure. “Please forgive me.” He lifts his head up to catch Kuroo’s gaze again, raising an eyebrow in confusion when he finds Kuroo leaning away from him in abject horror. “Uhm- Kuroo?” It’s only then that Kuroo realises he should have masked his reaction a little or something, pulling into place a neutral expression.

“Sorry for what?” If Sawamura tells him that he made a mistake yesterday and doesn’t want to be Kuroo’s boyfriend after all, Kuroo doesn’t know what he’ll do. He’s read manga. He knows how this kind of script goes. One will say: _I’m sorry, it was all a mistake. How can it work between two boys anyway?_ If it wasn’t a mistake for Kuroo, then it must have been a mistake for Sawamura. _We can still be friends right?_ Something clenches, horrible and cold, at the pit of his stomach.

“I’m sorry for stealing your first kiss.” Sawamura’s still not raised himself from his bow, staring up at Kuroo curiously. “I should have asked before I took it. It was a really shitty thing for me to do.” Kuroo’s mind reels back on itself.

“What?”

“You know,” for the first time Sawamura’s voice hitches, as if he’s uncertain of himself, “on your doorstep… when I grabbed you.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Kuroo takes a step closer to Sawamura, trying to steady the shake in his voice. “You’re telling me you _regret_ kissing me?” If Sawamura thought he was going to accept this without a fight then he was wrong. Because kissing him wasn’t a mistake. Sawamura’s back snaps up straight, his eyes wide and alarmed.

“No!” He brings a hand up to rub the back of his neck, blush darkening on his cheeks. “I regret that I _stole_ your first kiss, without your permission.” He wrinkles his nose. “And I regret that you thought I was dating Suga.” A slow smile spreads across his face as he looks at Kuroo. “But I don’t regret kissing you. Not at all. I always want to kiss you.”

“Oh.” The bubble of warmth from earlier explodes inside him, expelling the cold like it wasn’t even there in the first place. He always wants to kiss him. “You’re really cute.” Sawamura rolls his eyes on a sigh.

“Of course you’re not mad.”

“Why would I be mad?” Kuroo laughs, feeling a lot lighter all over now that he knows Sawamura still wants to be his boyfriend and is just being a weirdo. It’s really wonderful. Sawamura stares at him like he’s missed the point entirely.

“It was your first kiss. And I just took it!”

“Ah-huh.” He nods understandingly, despite still not really seeing the problem. “And that was bad for you?” Sawamura grumbles something under his breath; Kuroo can’t work out what he’s saying even when he leans in so far he’s practically on top of him.

“It was bad _of_ me.” Sawamura decides at last, voice barely above a whisper now they’re so close. “You could have been saving that for someone special and I didn’t even ask.” Kuroo dips down and kisses Sawamura’s frown off his lips in a second, laughing when Sawamura swats him away after the barest of touches.

“I didn’t ask for that one. Are you mad?” Sawamura doesn’t look mad. He looks flustered and exasperated and about four kinds of adorable, and the way his eyes dip down to Kuroo’s lips and the quiver of his Adam’s apple as he swallows aren’t the responses of a mad man.

“It’s different.” Sawamura insists, voice verging on a whine. “You’re my boyfriend. You have implied permission to kiss me most of the time.” Kuroo’s starting to realise this is what it means to date someone who isn’t as go-with-the-flow as he is. Sawamura has clearly read some kind of manual on the Rules of Boyfriend-hood and seems to be struggling with the concept that Kuroo hasn’t. And, more importantly, that Kuroo doesn’t care.

“I’m glad you took my first kiss.” He says decidedly. “I’d been dying for you to take it all weekend if I’m honest. When you powered forward like that... It was really cool.” He nods, satisfied with himself. “And now you get all the kisses that come after the first one. It’s really quite romantic.”

“But Kuroo–” Kuroo hushes him by placing a finger to his lips.

“You need to think less. There’s no one else I’d rather have taken my first kiss.” He’d never even seriously wanted to kiss someone in the same way as he’d wanted to kiss Sawamura before. Why can’t Sawamura see that he just feels incomparably lucky? That the person he wants to kiss so badly wants to kiss him back? It’s like a dream. “Can we go eat now? I’m starving!” He latches onto Sawamura’s forearm and pulls him along into the canteen.

“I still want to make it up to you.” Sawamura mutters, not shaking Kuroo’s hold off of him even when they’re passing by everyone eating; Kuroo feels like he might combust.

“Mhm-hmm, sounds great!” Kuroo hands Sawamura a tray and starts piling things on that he thinks he likes.

“I mean it!” Sawamura outright huffs, and for the first time Kuroo feels like he’s the more mature one out of the two of them. “What are you doing after dinner? I’ll make it up to you then?”

“No can do, I promised Kenma I’d chaperone him to your game night.” Kuroo looks meaningfully at Sawamura; there’s no way he can abandon Kenma to the entire flock of crows.

“What game night?” Kuroo can’t tell if Sawamura is more surprised by the news he’s hosting a game night or the assortment of food that’s appeared on his tray as Kuroo pushes him over to a table.

“Shrimpy is introducing Kenma to everyone. Maybe you missed the memo?” He laughs at the bemused expression on Sawamura’s face.

“Does he know that we already know who Kenma is?” Kuroo nods around a mouthful.

“Leave him alone. I think it’s cute.” Even though Kenma had made it seem like an elaborate ploy to get him to make friends with Dark and Stormy the premise is still cute.

“Oh?” Sawamura finally seems to relax into his chair, pulling into place a smirk. “Do you want me to introduce you to my team too? I could say it’s a diplomatic union arranged to bring our teams closer together.”

“Pfft!” Kuroo chokes on his food. He uses a first to thump across his chest to dislodge the noodles from his throat and coughs a few times. When he looks back up to meet Sawamura’s gaze he feels a tingle run down his spine. He’s smirking, sure, but he also looks serious. If Kuroo said yes he gets the feeling he’d do it right now.

“Maybe.” He admits, cheeks pinking, “but not on Kenma’s night.” Kenma rarely, if ever, takes the spotlight and Kuroo’s not about to be the person who yanks it away from him. He deserves a moment where everyone is fawning over him. The answering smile on Sawamura’s face leaves Kuroo momentarily dazed.

“Alright,” he agrees, translating Kuroo’s ‘maybe’ into the ‘hell yes’ he was thinking, “next time then.”

* * * *

“So am I the mum or are you the mum?” Kenma stares at Yamamoto blankly as he fidgets on his left-hand side.

“Neither of us are the mum. We’re two dads.” Kuroo, towering over his right shoulder, tuts like that much is obvious.

“Two dads.” Yamamoto repeats back in awe, as if the thought had never occurred to him before. “There can be two dads?”

“There can be as many dads as you want!” Kuroo replies proudly. Kenma rolls his eyes, ignoring Yamamoto’s answering shouts and knocks on the door. It opens almost immediately, Hinata’s head popping into view.

“Kenma!” Kenma will never get used to the excited chirp Hinata uses when he says his name. Or the way his eyes crinkle at the corners into a smile every time. A hand curls around the door frame and Tanaka and Nishinoya force their way into view, smiling almost sweetly.

“Good evening.” Nishinoya dips his head, voice more demure than Kenma’s ever heard it.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Tanaka follows Nishinoya’s lead, dipping his head lowly and looking at the three of them with a solemn expression.

“Likewise.” Yamamoto sparks into life, nodding curtly and holding out a hand. Hinata looks at the three of them through narrowed eyes.

“You’re making it weird.” Hinata hisses, elbowing Tanaka solidly in the side as he reaches out to clasp Yamamoto’s hand.

“Wait.” Kuroo leans heavily on one hip, eyes roaming over the three in the doorway thoughtfully. “The bicycle bros are your dads?” He looks down at Kenma. “I thought for sure it would be Suga and Sawamura.” Kenma stares at him.

“You thought Suga-san and Sawamura-san would be Shouyou’s parents?” He raises an eyebrow. Surely Kuroo can see how ridiculous this all is. Nishinoya throws an arm around Hinata, squeezing him tightly.

“Shouyou is definitely ours.” He beams proudly at Tanaka. “Suga-san and Daichi-san are the grandparents.”

“Huh.” Yamamoto leans over the top of Kenma’s head. “Does that make you his father-in-law _and_ his grandpa-in-law?” He whispers, laughter booming when all Kuroo manages to do is splutter in response.

“Kenma.” Hinata wriggles out of Nishinoya’s grasp, reaching over and grabbing onto Kenma’s arm. “C’mon.” He ducks through the door, pulling Kenma gently after him and leaving the others to their roleplay. Inside Karasuno’s room they’ve laid out their futons in a square like a fortress. Suga and Akaashi are sat on one side with Shimizu and Yachi. Opposite them Sawamura and Ennoshita are reading the rules. On the side closest to the door Azumane, Narita and Kinoshita are arranging little army men into coloured piles and on the furthest side, the side Hinata is leading him to, Kageyama and Yamaguchi are smiling at something on Yamaguchi’s phone. Kenma doesn’t think he’s ever seen Kageyama smile. He looks softer.

“We’re going to sit right here.” Hinata plops himself down in the corner next to Sawamura and gestures at the space next to him. ”Kuroo-senpai will be on Sawamura-senpai’s team right?”

“I guess.” Hinata nods happily and Kenma joins him, pulling a blanket up over his knees. Hinata has arranged it so that not only is he sat next to Kageyama, but Kuroo will be within arm’s reach if he gets overwhelmed. And they’re tucked in a corner; hardly the centre of attention at all. He reaches out and brushes his finger across the back of Hinata’s hand. “Thanks Shouyou.”

“No problem! I also invited-”

“Shouyou!” Kenma looks up startled as Nishinoya and Tanaka throw the door open.

“You’re terrible parents.” Yamamoto shakes his head sternly behind them. “Losing your only child like that.”

“You lost yours too!” Tanaka pushes him on the shoulder laughing.

“I’m also a terrible parent.” Yamamoto doesn’t seem upset or surprised by this fact. “I’m too young for such responsibility.”

“What’s the game then?” Kuroo’s sat on the other side of Hinata, shuffling himself into a comfier position and looking at Sawamura expectantly. Kenma didn’t even see him move.

“Risk.” Sawamura answers confidently, even though his brow is furrowed over the instructions. “We’re getting rid of some of the rules. To make it easier.”

“And quicker.” Ennoshita unfolds the board onto the floor in the middle of the futons. “Otherwise we would be here all night.” He sits himself back down next to Sawamura.

“You’re on our team right?” Ennoshita looks up, eyebrows raised at Yamamoto crouching down over him.

“Uhm?”

“Of course! Of course!” Tanaka squeezes himself in between Sawamura and Ennoshita, forcing them further along. Ennoshita looks up a little helplessly, catching Kenma’s gaze and smiling apologetically. Kenma didn’t think he was that easy to read but it’s a nice feeling knowing so many people are looking out for him. The door opens again and Kenma expects to see Tsukishima as he’s the only member of Karasuno unaccounted for so is a little bit surprised when Inuoka and Shibayama ease their way in and apologise for being late. Kenma looks at Hinata.

“You told me Yaku was busy with Lev, so I thought… maybe they’d help? And yesterday Shibayama-kun made the projector so it’s like a thank you too!” Kenma doesn’t know why people think Hinata isn’t smart; he always thinks of things no one else does.

Tsukishima doesn’t arrive until after Ennoshita’s settled everyone down and explained the rules twice. When Tsukishima opens the door he pauses uncertainly. He looks around the room with a blank face, but Kenma thinks he’s a little taken aback by the situation. Maybe nobody told him.

“Tsukki!” Bokuto flies through the door after him and stops stock still when he takes in everyone sat around the board, looking up at the two of them.

“Bokuto-san?” Akaashi’s voice is soft and reassuring. Bokuto doesn’t move.

“Bro!” Kuroo throws a hand into the air and beckons Bokuto over. “You’re late! C’mon we saved you a spot.” Kuroo shuffles closer to Hinata, making a space for Bokuto. On his other side Sawamura shifts too, tucking himself more solidly against Kuroo’s side and gesturing at the space next to him. Tsukishima sighs.

“Come on then.” He reaches behind him and tugs on Bokuto’s wrist. Bokuto jerks back into life all at once, a squeak leaving the back of his throat as he bounds after Tsukishima.

“What’s our team name?”

“We don’t have one yet, we were waiting for you.”

“We’re having team names?” Suga looks like he’s already having the best time, eyes sparkling as he stares at Kuroo’s corner of the square. Kenma’s a little bit glad they’re so embarrassing; no one’s paying attention to him.

“Yeah! It’s always more fun with team names!” Mostly everyone agrees with this and the next five minutes are spent with everyone huddled in groups, debating their own team names. Kenma looks around the square. Including himself and Hinata there are twenty-one people. He can’t remember the last time he had to be social around such a large amount of people without something like volleyball or a movie to focus on. Hinata shuffles next to him, tucking himself under the blanket too and hooking his leg under Kenma’s.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” He’s surprised by how he doesn’t even have to lie. “Are we the only team of two?”

“Yup! You want our team name to be about being a pair?”

“No thank you.” He isn’t a bicycle turned tricycle type of person.

“Okay!” Hinata hums, “what do you want us to be called?” Kenma shrugs.

“Whatever you want is fine.” Minutes later he thinks maybe that was a mistake. Yachi produces a piece of paper and a pen claiming it’s so they can keep track of the teams, although Kenma thinks it’s so they can keep track of who’s winning. She pencils in the members of her team – Akaashi, Suga, Shimizu – next to her own name and writes ‘Team Pretty’ above it. She draws a little heart.

“Team Pretty?” Tanaka squints across the room.

“Yes.” Suga laughs. “Don’t you think we’re the prettiest team?” The tricycle burst into rapt agreement, complimenting Shimizu and Yachi with gusto and also assuring Akaashi and Suga they’re pretty too. Yachi goes so red in the face Kenma worries she’ll pass out. They pass the paper and pen around to Inuoka who writes at the top ‘YamaYamaYama Inuoka’ in all capitals. He points to each of his team members in turn.

“Kage **yama** , **Yama** guchi, Shiba **yama** , Inuoka!” He cheers happily and then points a finger at Yamamoto. “You’re really on the wrong team.” Hinata takes the pen and paper excitedly, tongue poking out the side of his mouth. He writes down their team name as if it is an equation: Kenma Kozume + Shouyou Hinata = SHOUMA KOZATA.

“It’s like we fused together!” He beams at Kenma, handing the paper off. Kuroo takes it with a glint in his eye; he’ll never let Kenma live this one down. Kuroo writes out their team name after double checking with Bokuto he’s got it right. Sawamura and Tsukishima look mostly resigned to their fate.

“Big Crow, Little Crow, BoKuroo.” Bokuto chants happily. Kenma wonders if Sawamura counts as the Big Crow or the Little Crow; Tsukishima is taller after all. Ennoshita is in a similar state of acceptance as Tanaka grabs the paper and writes their names down along with Yamamoto’s. Above in ferocious lettering he scribbles ‘Angry Bats’. Bokuto wrinkles his nose.

“Angry Bats? What does that even mean?”

“Like Angry Birds!” Tanaka gestures at himself and Ennoshita. “Except with an added cat.” He points at Yamamoto. “And what do you get if you mix birds and cats?”

“A mistake?” Kuroo chimes in helpfully, smothering his chuckles into Sawamura’s shoulder.

“Bats!” Yamamoto seems disproportionately pleased. Ennoshita just nods along as if it’s easier to agree than to try and reason with them. Nishinoya leans over to get the paper, handing it off to Narita with the claim he has the neatest handwriting.

“Asahi’s Angels?” Yachi squeaks, reading off the paper when it makes its way back to her.

“What did you expect?” Kinoshita seems genuinely curious.

“Someone needs to protect the big guy!” Nishinoya thumps Azumane across the chest. “Don’t worry Asahi-san; I’ve got your back!” Kenma feels Hinata’s leg twitch under his with how cool he finds his upperclassman.

“So… what colour are we?” Bokuto stares meaningfully at the organised piles of armies. Sawamura groans.

“This is going to take forever.”

“I can give out the colours.” Shimizu's voice is quiet and yet somehow it carries across the whole room. Nobody is against this suggestion. She collects each colour one at a time and hands them off wordlessly; Hinata and Kenma end up with red.

“Ryuu, Shimizu-san gave me yellow.” Nishinoya looks down at his palms stunned where little toy soldiers, cannons and horses are piled.

“We’re black!” Tanaka responds equally as enthralled with his own army. Kenma watches Hinata as he arranges their pieces on the floor. The aim of the game is to take over the world. The board in the middle of them is a map of the world. Each team will be given cards with territories on until there are no more cards left; they’re allowed to place men on these territories. They attack neighbouring territories by rolling two or three dice, depending on how many men they have where they’re attacking from. The defending team also rolls a couple of dice and the highest number gets men deducted from their opponents. If you defeat a territory you get to take it. They’ve decided teams that are defeated will join the team that beat them so that everyone can play until the end.

“The men are worth one right?”

“Yep.” Hinata turns to look at him. “The horses three and the cannons five.” Kenma nods, thinking. Ennoshita has started to hand out the territory cards.

“We should take out the Angry Bats first.” Hinata pauses in placing a man on their latest territory, smile growing across his face.

“Oh?” Kenma nods, more certain that this way would be most beneficial. He leans in close to Hinata.

“Team Pretty will go after the Angry Bats and Asahi’s Angels first because the tricycle are weak to the girls.”

“But this is a game of luck. We roll dice.”

“Hmm, kind of. We have to be strategic with who we attack and where we create strong holds.” Hinata laughs, stuffing his hand over his mouth when Ennoshita passes them another card.

“I knew you’d like this!” Kenma can feel heat rising to his face. “After we take over the Angry Bats, who do we go for?”

“YamaYamaYama Inuoka.” Hinata cocks his head to the side as if confused. “We let Team Pretty take Asahi’s Angels then they’ll fight with Big Crow, Little Crow BoKuroo and we can quietly take them.” He flicks his head back to indicate Kageyama and his team sat next to him. “You said it’s more fun if we beat him.” Hinata’s smile grows impossibly wider.

“And if Team Pretty doesn’t go after Big Crow, Little Crow, BoKuroo?”

“They will.” Usually Kenma finds it hard to read Suga, but it doesn’t take a genius to see how badly he wants to take down the Captains featuring Tsukishima team. Akaashi too looks like he wants to get some payback. “We just have to make it look like chance when we beat the Angry Bats.” That way they won’t get suspicious.

“And how do we do that?”

“Play the first two rounds badly.” This time when Hinata laughs he accompanies it with a nod.

Kenma’s plan doesn’t play out exactly as he’d envisioned it. For a start he forgot to factor in Tsukishima. It becomes obvious almost immediately that Tsukishima has convinced his team to go after the Angry Bats too. The only reason they don’t succeed is because geographically their territories are spread out too far from each other. Shibayama is unexpectedly a problem; he’s unnaturally good at throwing dice, never getting less than a five. But Team Pretty does end up taking over Asahi’s Angels and Shouma Kozata do end up taking over the Angry Bats.

“It’s only natural for children to outgrow their parents.” Yamamoto nods, wiping a fake tear from his eyes as he leans over Ennoshita to comfort Tanaka.

“Did I miss something?” Ennoshita asks the two of them, quirking an eyebrow; Yamamoto remains half-resting on his lap for the rest of the game. When it’s time to attack YamaYamaYama Inuoka, Hinata surprises Kenma by calling out to Kageyama.

“You won’t beat me here either!” Next to him Kageyama growls and apologises to Kenma for what he’s about to do. He has considerably less luck when it comes to dice throwing and in another three rounds Hinata takes over their team. Kenma looks at the side of his face, smiling when Hinata catches him and winks. Hinata must have noticed Shibayama’s winning streak too; he’d provoked Kageyama on purpose.

Once they’ve taken Kageyama’s cards he shuffles ever so slightly closer, assessing the board and pointing things out to Kenma. It’s slow at first, a casual comment each round. But as the game progresses he starts raising his voice, shutting down Hinata’s ideas, despite Hinata’s protest that he’s the lead general of Shouma Kozata.

“If I have to lose, then I have to lose to the best.” Kageyama tells him, bottom lip puckered out. Even though it’s just a board game he’s so serious. The giggle that escapes Kenma is completely involuntary and causes Kageyama to flush red.

“You’re setter friends already!” Both of them blink at Hinata. Over his right shoulder Kenma notices how proud Bokuto looks.

There’s a moment a few rounds later when Kenma thinks Suga and Akaashi have clocked onto their plan. Or maybe it was Shimizu who alerted them to it. They’ve been taking over one country only each turn, a weaker one at the edges, and then passing the dice on, watching as Team Pretty and Big Crow, Little Crow, BoKuroo weaken each other. But before Team Pretty acts on their suspicions Kuroo and Bokuto lead a more or less suicidal rampage against them, leaving no bordering territories so that when it's Kenma and Hinata’s turn it’s almost easy to defeat them. If anyone else notices they don’t say anything and normally Kenma would object to being let win but when Hinata twists next to him, eyes bright and face pink, delighted that they came first, he can’t bring himself to care.

“We make the best team!” Even Kuroo flopping onto Hinata's head to ruffle his hair in congratulations doesn’t hide his ecstasy.

“It’s just a game.” Kenma mumbles, wondering why even though he knows this a strange happy feeling is churning inside him. Hinata quirks his head.

“We can take on the world together.” He states simply. As if it’s obvious. As if it’s no big deal.

“Kageyama helped.” He shuffles his hair in front of his face slightly, ears burning.

“Hmmm.” Hinata scrunches his nose up in thought. “Well he’ll take on the world with me on court and we’ll take on the world off court!” Sometimes Hinata shines so brightly that it makes Kenma ache to look directly at him.

“Alright.”

“Oh sure, _Kageyama_ helped.” Kuroo drawls; he’s always known exactly when Kenma needs rescuing.

* * * *

Hinata feels so light he thinks he could float up and get stuck on the ceiling. Maybe Kageyama would find him tomorrow morning, scowl up with a _what are you doing, dumbass?_ But he’d still help drag him back down. That’s just how Kageyama is. Hinata doesn’t float up and away though, because Kenma’s fingers are locked in between his own tethering him to the ground.

“You had fun, right?” He’s asked Kenma this same question at least fifty times. And every time he’s given Hinata that half-smile, the one he uses when he’s trying to hold back a full smile. Every time he nods, humming a yes to show that he did have fun, cheeks pink. Hinata only keeps asking so he can replay this reaction every time. It’s very cute. He squeezes Kenma’s hand with his own, swinging their arms slightly. Inuoka and Shibayama had rushed back to their own room about ten minutes ago, claiming that they wanted to get into the bathroom before anyone else did and Kuroo had said he’d follow on in a minute after he’d roused Yamamoto up. If Hinata has learnt anything from this training camp it’s that everyone, especially Kuroo, has a sly and indirect side. They all wanted to give Hinata the chance to walk Kenma back to his room alone. That realisation only made him feel lighter because they're Nekoma. They're Nekoma trusting Hinata with Kenma. He squeezes Kenma’s hand again, just to make sure he’s still grounded.

“Thank you Shouyou.” Kenma hesitates outside his room, biting his bottom lip.

“Tomorrow we can play video games all evening.” Hinata decides, thinking that Kenma was mulling over the nicest way to tell him just that. He knows that hanging out with his entire team, plus half of Nekoma, would have been hard for Kenma. And he also knows he only agreed to go because it was Hinata who asked him. Even if he didn’t enjoy watching Kenma tap diligently away with absolute concentration on his console he’d do it for the rest of the week if he asked. He’d do anything Kenma asked of him because he wants him to feel like this too; like the only thing keeping him from floating to the ceiling is Hinata’s hand holding him down.

“Alright.” It’s a slow smile this time, not a half-smile. Kenma doesn’t hold it back and even tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, inadvertently giving Hinata a better view. It’s very cute. “Sweet dreams Shouyou.” Kenma lets go of his hand, turning to open his bedroom door and a high sense of urgency seizes Hinata. His abandoned hand glides up towards Kenma’s face, tucking his hair behind his other ear for him so that it matches. Hinata’s always liked how soft Kenma’s hair is. It’s really very cute.

“Sweet dreams.” He repeats feeling strangely detached as he bobs his head forwards and kisses Kenma’s cheek. It’s the first time either of them has kissed each other. It’s the first time Hinata has kissed someone who isn’t in his family. Even though it seems impossible, Kenma’s cheek is ten times softer than his hair. It’s only as he settles back on his feet that he thinks maybe he should have asked, but suddenly Kenma’s only inches from his face, his golden eyes rounder than Hinata’s ever seen before. Darker too. Maybe he’ll drown instead. Kenma presses his lips onto Hinata’s own cheek. Only for a second. It’s enough. It’s more than enough. It’s almost too much. Every cell in his body seems to charge to his head, screaming in unison, because Kenma just kissed him.

“See you tomorrow Shouyou.” Kenma’s breath glides warmly over his cheek, leaving pleasant tingles in its wake. Hinata opens his mouth to respond, but everything inside him is still jumping madly; he has no words. Kenma giggles, face aflame, and ducks into his room with a wave. It’s impossibly cute. Hinata ends up floating back to his room after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your lovely messages as usual ⌒°(ᴖ◡ᴖ)°⌒ they make my day roughly 100x brighter so thanks for always taking your time to read & comment. 
> 
> I'll try to update more frequently!! (even though recently I fell hard & fast into the deepest & darkest rare pair hell of my life: Yamamoto x Ennoshita... EnnoMoto? So I might end up writing a fic for them... welp) 
> 
> & you can find me here ~ tmntransformer.tumblr.com ~ if you want. Especially if you want to chat rare pairs with me *cough* someone love EnnoMoto with me pls *cough* 
> 
> & & HAPPY KURODAI WEEK !! (♥ω♥ ) !!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** * * W A R N I N G * * ***
> 
>  
> 
> I spoke to a few people about being unsure if the teen rating for this fic still applies. I only ever intended to write it as a one shot but got supremely carried away & in past chapters I think I've flirted with the rating a little (like maybe a boner or two too far), but as nobody complained I thought it was fine. I don't have plans as such to do anything explicit, but this chapter has reference to & HEAVILY implied sexual acts so just beware! 
> 
> If everyone is fine with me switching the rating to moderate & continuing down the path of perversion then I'll happily do so, but if that upsets people slash causes discomfort I can always post stuff I think edges over the line as a separate fic & include links in chapter updates, so let me know!!

Kuroo is still half-asleep and completely unguarded as he comes out of the bathroom when Yamamoto grabs him in a headlock.

“Captain!” Kuroo can’t work out why Yamamoto sounds so surprised when he’s the one forcefully dragging Kuroo down the hallway, arm solid and unmoving around his neck. “I saved you a seat at breakfast!” Kuroo thinks he’s joking until they make a sharp turn down the stairs, Yamamoto taking two steps at a time as Kuroo tumbles after in an attempt to not break his neck.

“Do you have me confused with someone else?” Aside from the fact they haven’t eaten a single meal together at camp, Kuroo’s already had breakfast. Already brushed his teeth too and is still clutching onto his toothbrush and toothpaste as Yamamoto yanks him into the canteen and pushes him into a seat with both hands and a stern look.

“Do you know any other Captains?” Yamamoto holds onto his forehead with a pinched hand, sighing deeply. Kuroo decides not to point out how even if they exclude fictional characters he still knows more than a dozen other Captains; four of whom are actually at this training camp with them. Yamamoto drags out the chair opposite and sits himself down heavily.

“Are you… okay?” Kuroo places his toothbrush and toothpaste down on the table in the middle. Yamamoto makes no move to go and get any food so Kuroo can only assume he’s also eaten. Kuroo watches him as he leans both his elbows onto the table, pressing his palms into his eyes and groans deeply. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Is this all real?” Yamamoto asks, voice strained and eyes obscured by his hands. Surely Yaku, Kai or even Kenma would have been better options to go to for a mental breakdown. At best all Kuroo will be able to offer is a sarcastic comment and double thumbs-up. Kuroo blinks around the canteen.

“Pretty real.” As real as it’s been any other day.

“That’s what I said!” Yamamoto’s hands fly off his face, slamming onto the table top and startling the toothbrush.

“Oh, _oh no_.” Dread fills Kuroo. He doesn’t know why he didn’t realise immediately. What’s realistically the only kind of problem he’d be the first one Yamamoto would turn to for help? “You’ve _actually_ killed someone with that damn shovel haven’t you?” If Tanaka is involved then at least Kuroo can drag Sawamura down too. With them both being accessories to murder they might even get sent to the same prison with similar sentences. Maybe even share a cell. Not the most romantic first time living together but bunk beds are always fun.

“Okay first off the shovel is for when we have to dig the hole to hide the bodies; it is not a weapon.” For some reason Kuroo gets the distinct impression he’s being berated by Yamamoto when surely it should be the other way round. “Second off Kenma is the person to go to when you need help with a murder, you’re way too,” Yamamoto flails his hands around. “And third off! No. No I haven’t _actually_ killed anyone. God.”

“Oh.” Visions of himself and Sawamura in matching jumpsuits fizzle away. Probably for the best. “That’s excellent! Really, well done.” He smiles proudly at Yamamoto. Yamamoto growls, opening his mouth as if to respond before biting his tongue. He grumbles a little and then seems to decide to ignore Kuroo’s very real concern that he might be murdering people on the side.

“Let's start again. Is the thing with you and Sawamura-san real?” Kuroo blinks at Yamamoto’s earnest face.

“What?” If Yamamoto has plans to give him another talk down he wishes he’d waited until he was at least out of his pyjamas.

“It’s not hormones or curiosity or some kind of extended joke… It’s real, right?”

“Uhm.” The weight Yamamoto has placed on the question makes Kuroo squirm a little in his seat. He looks at him as if Kuroo’s answer will personally affect him. “Yeah,” Kuroo feels his face flush so breaks eye contact to address his toothbrush instead. “Yeah, it’s pretty real. He’s like my boyfriend or whatever.”

“Great!” Kuroo glances up to see if Yamamoto’s making fun of him, but he seems genuinely thrilled by Kuroo’s answer. “That’s really great! And after we leave training camp you’ll still be boyfriends or whatever, right? Because this isn’t some kind of liminal space!”

“What?”

“You know like a floaty in-between-worlds type place.”

“I know what a liminal space is.” Kuroo rolls his eyes.

“Oh! I forget you’re clever; I had to look it up.” Yamamoto scratches the back of his neck.

“Okay… who told you that camp was a liminal space?”

“Hmm.” Yamamoto leans forward to study Kuroo’s face for a moment. “Since it’s you, I guess it doesn’t matter if I tell you.” He shrugs one shoulder. “Ennoshita told me, after I confessed to him.”

“Ah.” Kuroo’s understanding nod freezes mid-motion. “Wait. _What?_ ”

“Yeah I’m basically in love with him.” Yamamoto breezes on, picking at something inside his ear. “Have you ever seen him whip everyone into shape? It’s really something.” He sighs wistfully. Kuroo wrinkles his nose.

“Are you some kind of masochist?” Yamamoto snaps his fingers.

“I’d like to postpone my answer to that question until I’ve looked up that word.”

“Wait. So you _actually_ like Ennoshita? And you _really_ confessed?” Kuroo can’t picture it. Can't even remember seeing them together apart from last night. Then again Yamamoto has always been an all or nothing kind of person; Kuroo’s never seen him half-ass anything. He would be the type to fall head over heels after one conversation.

“Twice.” Yamamoto drums his fingers on the table. “Last night I told him I was probably in love with him and he told me it was _simply curiosity_ because we were in a _liminal space_.” Yamamoto’s tongue lolls out the side of his mouth to express how distasteful he finds such an answer. “This morning after I learnt what a liminal space was I tried again but he just sort of shook his head and told me it’s not love but _hormones_. Hormones!” Yamamoto throws his hands into the air. “Can you believe it?”

“Uhm.” Kuroo can kind of see why Ennoshita would think that actually, but decides not to say so. “You seem pretty upbeat for someone who got rejected twice.” Admirable really.

“Yeah well I figure he must like me at least a little.” Yamamoto's grin is blinding. “This morning he jacked me off as he insisted it was just _my_ hormones.” He barks a laugh straight into Kuroo’s scandalised face.

“Jesus.” It’s a lot of information for Kuroo to wrap his head around so early in the morning. For some reason he finds himself wondering if Ennoshita was Sawamura’s fourth person on Karasuno’s spectrum of gay.

“But really thanks for your help.” Yamamoto gives him a toothy grin as he stands up and rolls his shoulders until they pop. “It felt real to me but he’s a lot cleverer so I thought I’d double check.” He walks round to thump Kuroo on the back. “Now, we should go before we’re late for practice.” He bounds off with another laugh. Kuroo stares at his toothbrush.

“Jesus.”

* * * *

“Eyes on the prize, Captain.” Nishinoya giggles as he smacks Sawamura across the shoulder. Sawamura jerks his head away from studying Kuroo’s calves and frowns. There’s no use denying he was staring, especially not to Nishinoya.

“My eyes _were_ on the prize.” He grits out, leaping forwards to receive one of Lev’s spikes. Nishinoya cackles next to him as he congratulates his form.

“Whatever motivates you!” Tanaka shouts out, surprising Sawamura with how he’s been able to follow the game as well as eavesdrop on their conversation. Hinata zips across their side of the court, eyes electric and smashes the ball onto Nekoma’s side of the court. It’s 23-22 to Nekoma. One more point and they’ll be tied.

“Beating cats motivates me.” He replies, somewhat belatedly, but Tanaka still cheers out a battle cry.

“We’ve already beat them. On a different court.” They’ve not beaten Nekoma an entire match once all camp. Nishinoya braces himself for Kuroo’s serve next to him even though Kuroo’s unintentionally been aiming all his serves wherever Sawamura is all day long.

“How so?” The whistle blows and Sawamura barely has to step forwards to reach out and get Kuroo’s serve. It’s still as fast and strong as ever though and if it weren’t for Nishinoya dashing after it and throwing it to Azumane, he receive would have sent it outside the court. Sawamura wipes the back of his hand across his forehead as Tanaka thunders beside him about Karasuno’s unbeatable guardian deity. Yamamoto appears to take that as a personal challenge, bursting into the air to slam Kenma’s toss to him onto Karasuno’s side of the net. It rebounds inches away from Kageyama’s fingers. Sawamura huffs out a breath, Nekoma’s on match point now, and narrows his eyes at Yamamoto. For some reason he’s been playing better than Sawamura’s ever seen.

“You’ve conquered Kitty Cat,” Nishinoya whispers next to him as Kuroo steps up to serve again. Predictably it falls straight into Sawamura’s reach, but the force is stronger than before and it bounces off his forearms at a weird angle. Hinata manages to receive it, but his toss to Azumane isn’t that great and Sawamura knows that Yaku will keep the ball up easily. “Shouyou has conquered Kenma.” Sawamura’s only half-listening as Kai leaps forwards to spike the ball. Nishinoya darts out determined, catching the ball just before it hits the ground. Kageyama tosses it for Hinata, but once again Yaku’s there to receive it, shouting out to Kenma as he does so. “And if I’m not wrong.” Sawamura tips his head to look at Nishinoya for just a second, wondering how he can still be jabbering on at a time like this. He laughs at the other side of the net, turning to wink at Sawamura quickly before facing forwards. “Chikara has conquered my beloved third wheel Tora.”

“What?” Sawamura watches in almost morbid fascination as Yamamoto sends the ball onto the floor as fast and heavy as a rocket. The whistle blows. They lost but 25-22 is close, just three points seperating them from a Tokyo powerhouse. And they have two more sets to go. He stretches his arms out in front of him, groaning when Nekoma rotate positions to have Kuroo on the front line, challenging him with just a look. Behind Kuroo, Yamamoto waves. Not at Sawamura, but at the side lines where coach Ukai is benching Hinata and Kageyama for the next set, sending in Suga and Tsukishima instead. Ennoshita is stood next to them, ears and cheeks pink despite not playing in the first set. Ennoshita rolls his eyes and waves. Also not at Sawamura. Huh. He quirks his head back in Kuroo’s direction to find him rubbing Yamamoto’s hair cheerfully, congratulating him a little excessively.

“The damn cat already knows.” He grumbles, wiping his forehead across the front of his top just to catch Kuroo’s attention once more. “We’re going to win the next set.” Sawamura grits out, mostly to himself, but the bicycle still catch it and scream excitedly, slapping him on the back and growling nonsense through the net as the whistle blows again.

* * * *

“Tsukki!” Tsukishima steadfastly ignores Bokuto’s call as he hurries towards the water fountain. His bottle definitely needs to be filled up. Even if practice is technically over for the day and even if it’s still half full. It’s important to stay hydrated. “Tsukki!” Tsukishima speeds up. “Tsukki please! Wait!” In hindsight his end game of the fountain was a bad idea as now he has to go through the motions of actually filling his water bottle up which allows Bokuto more than enough time to catch up to him. “Tsukki! I was calling you!”

“Oh.” Tsukishima does not look at him. If he did he’d only see his pouting face and feel guilty enough to actually apologise. “I have impaired hearing.”

“Wah! Really? Sorry, sorry, I’ll make sure to be extra loud when I want you next time.” Tsukishima sighs wearily, screwing the cap back onto his bottle and walking passed Bokuto. “Ah! Tsukki! Wait!” Bokuto’s hand clamps down on his wrist and yanks him back. Tsukishima can feel blood rising to his face and is instantly horrified, eyes darting about. Even though they’re straggling they’re by no means the last to make their way to dinner; anyone could see them. He twists his hand in Bokuto’s grip grabbing onto him instead and yanking him back into the gym.

“What do you want?” He pushes Bokuto against the wall, stepping away immediately as it conjures up memories from yesterday. Bokuto might be a hair shorter than Tsukishima but he’s clearly a lot broader; all of the muscles in Tsukishima’s entire body probably amount to one of Bokuto’s quads. Maybe half a bicep. He could definitely hold Tsukishima in place anywhere with just one hand but submits so easily to being manhandled by him instead. Tsukishima blinks rapidly, dragging his gaze back up to focus on Bokuto’s face. Focus.

“I think we should talk about it.” Tsukishima’s eyebrows rise, his mind flipping through every memory he has of Bokuto to see if he’s ever heard him so soft and sincere before.

“Talk about what?” He asks, eyes taking in the way Bokuto bites down on his lip, hands curling nervously at his sides.

“I’m not stupid. You probably think I am but I’m not.” Tsukishima’s throat constricts painfully.

“I don’t think you’re stupid.” It’s entirely unfair for Bokuto to blink so hurt and confused with those big, golden eyes. Entirely unfair that the only place safe for Tsukishima to focus on has suddenly become the absolute worst place for him to be looking at.

“Thanks.” Bokuto brightens a shade. “I can feel you staring you know. When we play matches. I know when you’re watching me.” Tsukishima takes another measured step away from Bokuto; he’s probably going to tell him off for being such a creep. He might even punch him. It’s not like he wouldn’t deserve it.

“No, I–” He what? What excuse does he have? That he’s staring at Akaashi and Bokuto just happens to be next to him?

“It’s okay. I want you to stare.” Bokuto steps away from the wall and into Tsukishima’s personal space. “I stare at you all the time too.” Tsukishima wills himself to stand his ground even though his ears are ringing with how hot his face feels.

“You’re annoying.” Tsukishima flounders, usual venom curiously absent as he shifts to lean on one hip. Bokuto’s face splits into a wide smile as if he’s won something.

“I’m not.” He reaches out and wraps a hand around the hip Tsukishima has just jutted out, his fingers pressing down firmly. Tsukishima staggers back another step but Bokuto presses forward unconcerned. If they continue this across the whole gym it could take forever. “Everyone always used to tell me I was annoying. And I used to believe them.” He licks his lips, eyes tracing over Tsukishima’s face.

“Why are you telling me this?” Bokuto lifts a shoulder in a shrug.

“So that you know.”

“I don’t care.” Surprising how easy lies slip from Tsukishima’s tongue when he always seems to stutter around the truth.

“Hmm maybe. But I care. It took me a lot of time to find real friends.” The fingers curled around his hip twitch upwards in an almost caress. Tsukishima can feel the hairs on the back of his neck rising. How hopelessly ridiculous to be affected by something so small. Nishinoya drapes across him on an almost hourly basis and it doesn’t cause him any concern. “Kuroo’s spent many hours convincing me that I’m not annoying.”

“Woop de doo for him.” Tsukishima inwardly cringes. What an amazingly scathing response. One that surely only Kageyama would be able to think up. Bokuto doesn’t seem to care however, chuckling lowly.

“I don’t like being called annoying.” Guilt swirls wickedly at the base of Tsukishima’s spine. He’s never said it with the intent to actually hurt Bokuto and he opens his mouth to tell him exactly that when Bokuto continues on. “ _Unless_ you mean you’re annoyed by how impossible it is not to kiss me.” Tsukishima balks; Bokuto’s smirking face does unexpected things to his insides.

“I– I–” His hand finds its way to Bokuto’s forearm. He stares at it a little dazed. This is a dangerous situation he’s decided. This is definitely the kind of situation he should run from. So why are his feet not moving? “You really are annoying.” It comes out of his mouth on a soft sigh, unthinkingly, but Bokuto hears it and laughs loudly and happily. His hand springs from Tsukishima’s waist and flies up to catch his hand. He walks with purpose passed Tsukishima, further into the gym, not even having to tug Tsukishima to follow on after.

“I know you’re shy.” Bokuto throws over his shoulder, laughter still trickling out of him. With his free hand he reaches out to the door of a supply closet, opening it more gently than Tsukishima expected, only a slither, and disappears inside. Tsukishima trails after him, catching the edge of the door and pulling it closed. Inside is completely black.

“Bokuto?” He whispers, nervous as Bokuto lets go of his hand to trail his fingers up his arm. Tsukishima squints, eyes trying to adjust and feels Bokuto’s answering giggle fall across his lips right before he kisses him. Bokuto’s hand curls around his neck, sliding into the back of his hair and Tsukishima doesn’t even try to hide the groan that sounds from the back of his throat, his entire body shuddering. Bokuto’s tongue runs across his bottom lip, warm but so unexpected that it startles Tsukishima backwards. His head collides painfully with the wall behind him, banging onto the light switch and causing his glasses to cascade to the floor. Bokuto laughs, disproportionately delighted as he spins around to retrieve them. He screeches suddenly and Tsukishima jumps, almost smacking his head again.

“ _Akaashi?!_ ” Tsukishima snatches his glasses from Bokuto's grip, pushing them up his nose with a scowl.

“No. I’m Tsukishi–” His own name dies in his mouth. Sat on top of a pile of crash mats is a very red-faced Akaashi. His hair is all over the place. And normally that would be a thing Tsukishima would comment on, but he can’t find his voice because one of Akaashi’s legs is being held firmly against the side of the crash mat pile. The other is slung over the shoulder of-

“Suga-senpai.” Tsukishima closes his eyes and counts to three wondering if maybe the smack to the head has caused him to hallucinate. When he opens his eyes everything is the same except Sugawara is smiling sheepishly.

“Bokuto-kun, Tsukishima-kun,” Tsukishima only realises that both of Sugawara’s hands are stuffed under Akaashi’s top as he slips them out slowly. “Isn’t it dinner time?” The snap of Akaashi’s waist band causes Akaashi to squeak slightly, mouth dropping open to pant a singular puff of air into the room.

“Dinner? Dinner! Yes, yes, _yes_ … dinner.” Bokuto’s voice is at least three octaves higher than usual.

“Bokuto-san.” Akaashi’s voice is barely audible; he’s clearly just as shell-shocked as Bokuto is. Tsukishima locks eyes with Sugawara's accidentally and panic wells up thick and heavy inside of him. His hand jerks out to grab Bokuto and he doesn’t know if he manages to say anything, despite desperately trying to. He opens the supply closet door, marching with a newfound purpose towards the exit, gulping in huge lungfuls air and not looking back.

* * * *

“Are you left handed?” Sawamura doesn’t think he’s ever seen Kuroo write but he’s noticed he tends to favour his left hand when eating. Especially when he uses chopsticks. Kuroo blinks around a mouthful, shaking his head a little.

“Ambidextrous.” He grins, absurdly proud of himself. “It’s cool, right?”

“Is it natural or did you train for it?” Sawamura smirks back, not putting it passed Kuroo to have spent hours of his youth learning how to write with both hands just to be cooler.

“All of my coolness is natural Sawamura.” Kuroo runs a hand through the front of his hair and strikes a dazzling pose. It’s probably supposed to be funny but Sawamura’s heart stutters a little in his chest at the sight. “The sooner you accept it the better. Jealousy is not your colour.”

“Did you swallow a bunch of fortune cookies?”

“Maybe Fukunaga downloaded a daily fortune cookie app today. And maybe Nekoma spent ten minutes getting our fortunes told. You’ll never know.” He winks, giggling to himself as he stuffs another pile of food into his mouth. His cheeks puff up like a hamster’s.

“Wow. You _are_ so cool.” Kuroo reaches across the table and flicks Sawamura’s nose. Over his shoulder Sawamura notices Tsukishima arriving, dragging a helpless looking Bokuto behind him.

“Bokuto’s a bad influence.” Kuroo twists around, following Sawamura’s line of sight and smiles broadly. Before Bokuto, Tsukishima was never late to meals. Sawamura doesn’t want to think too deeply into that.

“Wait he got caught up with Tsukki?” Kuroo sounds delighted. “I thought he’d gone to find Akaashi!”

“Huh.” Sawamura peers around the canteen. He’d sort of assumed Akaashi was eating with Hinata and Kenma but he finds the pair squished on the same table as Kageyama and Yamaguchi, shuffling up to make room for Tsukishima.

“ _You!_ ” Sawamura jumps as a tray is slammed down in front of him. Bokuto is glaring at Kuroo, chest puffed out and cheeks red.

“Me?” It’s amazing how little sense of danger Kuroo has, humming to himself as he takes a sip of his drink.

“ _I blame you!_ ” Bokuto declares through gritted teeth, slumping down onto the seat to stare at Kuroo eye-to-eye.

“Huh?” Kuroo looks over at Sawamura. “What did I do?” Bokuto jerks to look at Sawamura too, gaze scathing.

“You too! You’re _both_ at fault!”

“What happened?” Sawamura glances over to Tsukishima, but he seems to be the same as ever, chewing impassively and nodding attentively at Yamaguchi.

“The original gays!” Bokuto throws one hand up. “The Captain gays!” His other hand flies through the air. “Sending your happy gay vibes into the atmosphere and turning everyone gay!” Kuroo folds in on himself laughing, clearly overjoyed by this assessment.

“Bro, you were already totally gay!”

“Bro, I’m not _talking_ about me!”

“Ohoho?” Kuroo shifts closer to Bokuto, eyes shining. “What did you see?” He whispers conspiratorially, eyes sweeping the room. Sawamura can’t be sure but he thinks he sees Kuroo’s eyes widen ever so slightly as if surprised when he flits over one table. When Sawamura turns to see which table it was he finds the tricycle flicking rice at Lev, aided by an enthusiastic Yaku.

“I didn’t see anything.” Bokuto shakes his head vehemently.

“Hoh?” Kuroo purrs, angling his face to be more in Bokuto’s line of sight. “What did you _do_?”

“You’re such a catalyst!” Bokuto screeches, shoving a hand in Kuroo’s face. Kuroo splutters out a laugh, jabbing his hand under Bokuto’s armpit and tickling relentlessly. Sawamura sighs. He remembers when meal times used to be uneventful and judges himself for not missing it.

“ _Oh._ ” Kuroo and Bokuto pause in their squabbling to look at Sawamura’s face. Kuroo’s head snaps back comically fast to follow where Sawamura’s looking.

“Ohoho.” He drops Bokuto, using his hand to smother his giggles as his eyes follow Suga and Akaashi as they slink into the room. “Suga-san finally got the cream, huh?” Kuroo rests his head in his palm, leaning on one elbow to waggle his eyebrows at Bokuto. Bokuto groans pitifully, smacking himself across the forehead.

“I need a drink.” He announces, jumping up and running away just as Suga and Akaashi come over to join them. Akaashi’s face is pink all over. His hair is a mess too, Sawamura realises. More noticeable though is how satisfied Suga looks.

"Evening Daichi, Kit-Cat." Suga smiles serenely before slurping noisily on some soup.

“Psst,” Kuroo kicks Sawamura’s leg under the table, “did you hear? I’m a **cat** alyst.” Sawamura doesn’t think he’s ever seen Kuroo so delighted, giggles bubbling out of him constantly. Sawamura swings his leg forwards and hooks his ankle around the back of Kuroo’s calf.

“You’re such a dork.” Kuroo’s face flushes as he copies Sawamura, hooking his free ankle around the back of Sawamura’s other calf.

“I like you too.”

* * * *

“Don’t double-tap right away,” Kenma urges softly into Hinata’s ear, “tap once and then when he starts to fall, tap again – the jump will last longer and you’ll make it.”

“Right.” Hinata nods determinedly, poking his tongue out of the side of his mouth as it’s a known fact that helps improve brain concentration. It’s really important that he makes the jump or else his character on screen will die again. Dying three times over in front of Kenma is not how he’d wanted this to go. The problem is it’s really hard to stay focused with the way they’re sitting. Usually it’s Hinata who perches over Kenma’s shoulder to watch him play. But now they’re sat like they were a couple of days ago when Hinata played Fantasy Life; Kenma wrapped around him. His legs are framed either side of Hinata’s own and his arms are secured across his belly like a seat belt. His chin is resting on Hinata’s shoulder and every time he so much as breathes Hinata feels it ghost over his ear. He stopped being able to tell whose heartbeat was whose an hour ago. It was distracting last time. But this time it’s nearly impossible not to think about it because Kenma kissed him yesterday.

“That’s it.” Hinata blinks the screen back into focus, tapping belatedly and tries to hide his surprise when the character lands safely on the other side of the hole in the bridge. The character is still low on life and bends over, holding his hands on his knees and pants miserably. Hinata can relate.

“I guess I should find some life.” He’s torn between wishing they’d not be so alone and thankful that they are. The only other people in Karasuno’s room at the moment are Yamaguchi and Kageyama who at first expressed interest but then floated away to play a game on their phones when it became obvious it’s impossible to squash four heads around one small handheld. Every so often he picks out Yamaguchi giggling and Kageyama grumbling but it’s not enough. He needs Nishinoya and Tanaka to explode into the room and throw Azumane around. Or at least Narita and Kinoshita seeing who can fit more segments of orange in their mouth before they squirt orange juice all over each other. Anything to keep his attention on his surroundings and not on the way Kenma’s hair brushes his cheek every time he speaks. And definitely not on the small strokes Kenma’s thumbs are tracing out along his belly. Alternatively he needs Yamaguchi and Kageyama to take a walk so he can nuzzle into Kenma’s hair and maybe hide a few kisses behind his ears. He has really very cute ears.

“Ah. You’re on fire.” Hinata gulps, shifting his legs a little and trying to move his head away from Kenma’s. Of course he’d be heating up in such a situation; it’s only natural. Kenma’s the absolute cutest thing Hinata’s ever seen and he’s wrapped around him like a human blanket. A human blanket who wished him sweet dreams last night right before they kissed each other. He doesn’t blame himself for burning up.

“Sorry.”

“No.” A tiny giggle slips out of Kenma as he presses his legs back around Hinata. One of his hands abandons Hinata's middle and presses over his hand. “You’re literally on fire.” On screen Hinata’s character is running about it miniature circles, bottom ablaze.

“Ah! How did that happen?”

“Fire bat.” Hinata shakes his head a little, directing his on-screen person into a pool, and wonders if this game always had fire bats. “We don’t have to play if you don’t want to.” Hinata tips his head to stare at Kenma and immediately regrets it. His face is too close. He grips the console tighter willing his hands not to reach out and stroke Kenma’s face like he wants to. One day he’d like to count Kenma’s eyelashes.

“I like playing games with you.” It’s not a lie. Most other kinds of activities that require him to be still for long periods of time make him feel itchy and restless. Playing games with Kenma isn’t like that at all. Kenma releases a breath on a sigh, eyebrows furrowing and bottom lip jutting out. _Kenma is pouting._ If ever there were a time for the volleyball Gods to bestow upon him the power to take photos by blinking now would be it. Kenma tips his head forward an inch, brow furrowing further and nose twitching.

“Shouyou?” His head tips to the side. “Can you smell cherries?” Hinata decides he’d rather the volleyball Gods gift him with self-combustion.

“Fuh! Uh– ” He knows his eyes are doing that weird bug thing that annoys Kageyama but Kenma doesn’t seem repulsed or angered by it, sniffing the air in between them and shuffling closer to Hinata’s face. “Wah!”

“It’s you.” Kenma’s eyes widen, glowing with curiosity and it’s so cute that Hinata can’t bring himself to lie.

“You said,” he sucks in a breath of air, eyes jumping to where Kageyama and Yamaguchi are curled over their own phones in an intense battle. He lowers his voice anyway because telling Kenma is embarrassing enough; he’d rather lose all of his toes than give Kageyama more ammunition against him. “You said cherries were your favourite.”

“Mhm.” Kenma agrees, closing his eyes and nodding a little to himself. “Cherries and pineapple.”

“Right! I remembered! But they didn’t have pineapple.” Kenma’s eyes slide open.

“Who didn’t?”

“Ack! The shop. I– I went to the shop and bought some lip balm.”

“You bought cherry lip balm?” One of the cutest things about Kenma is how he fills in Hinata’s blanks when he’s worked up and flustered. Everybody else tells him he’s not making any sense and his thoughts jump around too disconnected, but Kenma joins all his dots for him.

“I bought cherry lip balm.” Hinata smiles even though he’s so embarrassed he thinks his head could blend into a bunch of cherries no problem. “I thought maybe then you might, I uhm,” he squirms looking down at the way Kenma’s arms are folded over his belly. “I thought maybe then you’d want to kiss me.”

“Oh.” Kenma’s hands tighten almost painfully. Hinata feels rather than sees Kenma bury his face into his shoulder, breath stuttering out of him erratically. “Shouyou.” His name vibrates from his shoulder into his chest. It’s impossibly warm. Hinata thinks he squeaks a little but maybe it's Kenma who squeaks. It’s becoming hard to tell who’s who. He bumps Kenma’s head by nudging his shoulder up and down very softly. Kenma’s face is cherry-red too. It’s very cute. Hinata opens his mouth to tell him it’s no big deal, he wants to kiss Kenma, sure, but he doesn’t want to pressure him into any kissing. What’s most important is that Kenma is happy. He opens his mouth really to tell him he finds him cute no matter what but Kenma jerks his head forwards, closing the already small gap and kisses him. Fully on the mouth. Kenma kisses him. Lip to lip.

“Huaah…” Hinata feels like an Etch-A-Sketch that’s being shaken clean. Everything inside him is fuzzing and falling away and all that he can think about is how soft Kenma’s mouth is against his and how great it is that Kenma is smiling as he kisses him. That kissing Hinata makes Kenma smile. Kenma dips his head away tongue darting out to lick his own lips.

“Cherry really is my favourite.” He glances down at the game in Hinata’s hands. “Oh. You died.” Hinata stares at the on-screen character, face down in some long grass. He can relate.

* * * *

Kuroo’s phone vibrates next to him on the floor. He leans back to read it so as not to cause the post-it note on his forehead to fall off.

 **From:** ♡♡ My Crow Captain ♡♡ (˃ε˂*)  
**Subject:** Right now.  
**Message:** Do you have plans?

He looks up at most of his team mates, Kenma traded out for the bicycle bros and shrugs. They’d decided to play the post-it note game - where they write famous people or objects on a post-it to stick on each others foreheads. They take turns going around in a circle and are allowed one question each to try and work out who they are. Much to Yaku’s annoyance they’d voted that the first one to guess theirs correctly gets to Truth or Dare the last one. Yaku was only annoyed because he’s surprisingly bad at this game and Lev won the first round.

 **To:** ♡♡ My Crow Captain ♡♡ (˃ε˂*)  
**Subject:** Right now.  
**Message:** Kind of… But I can get out of it if you’re looking to steal me away. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

 **From:** ♡♡ My Crow Captain ♡♡ (˃ε˂*)  
**Subject:** You sure?  
**Message:** No chaperoning a game night? No elaborate temporary cinema planned?

 **To:** ♡♡ My Crow Captain ♡♡ (˃ε˂*)  
**Subject:** Free as a bird ;)  
**Message:** Especially if you’re planning on dressing up in my kit again.

 **From:** ♡♡ My Crow Captain ♡♡ (˃ε˂*)  
**Subject:** Touché  
**Message:** Fancy joining me for a shower in five?

Kuroo smiles widely, texting back to let Sawamura know exactly how enthusiastic he is about that idea – it’s four ohos worthy – and zones back into the game. He’ll finish this round and then disappear. So far his clues are that he’s a character from a game, fast and sort of looks like Kuroo himself. And it’s not anyone from Pokémon.

“So I’m not a person or an animal…” Shibayama hums thoughtfully. “Am I a plant?”

“Kind of, sort of, basically a plant!” Inuoka claps excitedly.

“Part of a plant!” Chirps Nishinoya, equally as excited as Inuoka. Tanaka elbows him.

“Yes or no only! You’ll give it away!” Kuroo doubts that very much; stuck on Shibayama’s forehead is the word ‘petal’.

“What about me? Am I a plant?” Inuoka stares cross-eyed upwards as if maybe he’ll be able to read his own post-it, 'comb'. Kuroo had written that one in the spirit of Hinata. Lev makes an incorrect buzzer noise.

“Am I a bad guy?” Asks Kuroo, wondering if maybe that’s the joke. Kai snickers, shaking his head and they go round again. Tanaka wins by figuring out he’s Shimizu first after Nishinoya tells him he’s the most beautiful person in the world. Tanaka had guessed Nishinoya immediately after and Kuroo still can’t figure out if he was joking or not. Yaku comes in dead last despite Kuroo’s suspicions that he’d worked out he was Grumpy the dwarf at least before Fukunaga figured out he was dried squid; he was just too proud to say it. Kuroo managed to work out he was Sonic the hedgehog, poking Shibayama in the side when he admitted he’d written it.

“So big libero!” Tanaka smacks his hands together. “What will it be? Truth or dare?”

“He’s the big libero?” Lev stares doubtfully at Yaku’s small frame, yelping when Yaku karate chops him across the back of the neck.

“Of course! Noya-san’s the little libero.” Tanaka ruffles Nishinoya’s head affectionately. "And Shiba here is the baby libero." He pats Shibayama fondly. 

“Truth.” Yaku nods, evidently pleased at being the big libero. Tanaka scrunches his face up in thought for all of two seconds, eyes popping open comically.

“Oh! If you were a dinosaur, what dinosaur would you be?” Only Inuoka and Nishinoya think that’s a good use of a Truth or Dare question and in the squabble that breaks out Kuroo grabs his towel and whispers to Kai that he’s going for a shower.

“You call that five minutes?” Kuroo smiles when his eyes land on Sawamura leant casually against the wall outside the bathroom, a towel slung over his shoulder.

“Sorry. Had to wait for a good moment to sneak away.” Sawamura doesn’t say anything, nodding as he pushes himself off of the wall and turns to open the bathroom door. Kuroo balks. “Wait. You were serious? You want to shower together?” Sawamura looks at him, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah? What did you think I meant?”

“I don’t know.” The possibility of Sawamura actually expecting them to shower together hadn’t ever entered his mind. “I thought it was a joke to help me slip away.”

“Oh.” Sawamura draws his hand away from the door. “We don’t have to shower, if you don’t want to.” Kuroo has shared showers with everyone on his team for years. It shouldn’t be weird to shower with Sawamura. But it is. Because Sawamura is his boyfriend and showering, in Kuroo’s experience, has involved significantly less clothes than he’s used to seeing Sawamura in.

“I want to shower with you.” Kuroo blurts, because no matter how weird it is there’s no way he’d turn down such an offer. “But you’ll have to lend me some soap, I only brought my towel.” He brushes passed Sawamura, opening the door himself and running to the shower in the far corner. He hears Sawamura’s chuckle, the soft click of the door as it shuts behind him and the padding noise his feet make as he wanders over to Kuroo’s side. Kuroo isn’t sure of the protocol here. Is he allowed to touch Sawamura? Undress him? Gawk openly at his naked body? Sawamura seems to sense his apprehension and tugs gently on Kuroo’s ear lobe, dragging his head down to his level.

“We can do something else. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“That’s cute,” Kuroo grins, “but you smell gross. I wouldn’t be able to stand doing anything else.” He licks at the corner of Sawamura’s mouth as Sawamura shoves him playfully, pushing up against Kuroo and opening his own mouth to slip his tongue out to run along Kuroo’s lip. A quick, fast stripe. Not sexy at all really as he chuckles onto Kuroo’s face and yet Kuroo feels a growl rumble from somewhere deep in his stomach. He brings his hand up to tug at the hairs on the back of Sawamura’s head and kisses him. It’s sloppy and messy. Sawamura laughs around the kiss, hands roaming up the hem of Kuroo’s t-shirt and pinching their way around his abs. When Kuroo pulls away to catch his breath, Sawamura ducks forwards, licking with a heavy tongue down his chin and neck, blowing a raspberry on the soft skin that dips next to his collar bone. Kuroo laughs, his body shuddering, and feels the imprint of Sawamura’s smile on his skin.

“You smell too.” Sawamura sniffs exaggeratedly, pulling back and squinting at Kuroo distastefully. “I can’t believe my boyfriend is so gross.” Kuroo's a little in love with the fond voice Sawamura uses only when insulting him. Kuroo steps back slightly, leaving just enough space between them to shrug his top off. Sawamura’s hands drop away to follow his lead, curling around the bottom of his top to pull it off over his head. “Your hair looks good like that.” Sawamura reaches out and ruffles Kuroo’s hair with one hand, tugging on the ends before pulling away with a smirk. Without speaking they each shuffle out of their shorts and stand opposite each other. Kuroo’s own embarrassment lessens when he sees that Sawamura’s body has reacted in the same way his has.

“We’re going to wash or what?” Kuroo asks, cocking one eyebrow and smirking at Sawamura. In all honesty he’d be fine just standing here and appreciating Sawamura’s naked body for the rest of his life.

“Mhm-hmm.” Sawamura nods, biting his lip in a deliberate way as his eyes rake up and down Kuroo’s body. He turns to switch on one of the shower heads next to them, dragging a stool and bucket to his side and gesturing for Kuroo to take a seat. Kuroo obeys eagerly. Even if they were fully clothed he doubts he’d be able to deny Sawamura anything when his eyes are glowing like that. Kuroo dips his head back curiously to watch Sawamura, wondering if he’s going to get himself his own stool and bucket and shower next to him. “You know,” Sawamura begins conversationally, testing the temperature of the water with one hand as he kicks the bucket under the spray, “I don’t know why Bokuto calls me Captain Thighs… has he never seen yours?” Kuroo drops his gaze to his lap, staring at his thighs in confusion.

“They’re just legs.” Sawamura flicks water across the back of his neck, sucking in a sharp breath.

“They’re the best legs I’ve ever seen.” He says honestly. “Suga agrees with me.” He reaches down and picks up the bucket, lifting Kuroo’s jaw upwards gently as he pours a steady stream of water across the top of his head. Kuroo sighs, squirming on the stool and shifting his hands over his crotch. Sawamura grins. Kuroo blinks up at him, deciding that he trusts Sawamura enough to not even ask what he’s doing. Sawamura hums softly, voice echoing off of the tiled walls and pops open the lid of his shampoo. Kuroo’s eyes fall closed the moment Sawamura’s fingers tangle into his hair.

“We should always shower together.” He mumbles, leaning into Sawamura’s touch. Sawamura’s hands are surprisingly gentle as they massage their way across his scalp, lathering the shampoo evenly across his head. The same hands that Kuroo watched all day expertly catch every one of his serves. Kuroo knows how strong they are, it's just hard to imagine as they curl feather light touches into his hair.

“Are you seriously purring right now?” Sawamura’s voice is a lot closer than Kuroo expected, fluttering down his ear and causing him to groan. And it’s not like Sawamura hasn’t got a front row seat to the effect he’s having on Kuroo.

“It feels nice.” Kuroo admits, sliding open his eyes to glare at Sawamura’s smug face. “I realised something earlier.”

“Oh yeah?” Sawamura dips down by Kuroo’s side to retrieve the bucket, tugging Kuroo’s head up as he rinses the shampoo off.

“Yeah. Bokuto said I was the catalyst. But that’s not right at all.”

“It isn’t?” Kuroo shivers as Sawamura’s hands knot back into his hair.

“It’s Karasuno.” Kuroo sucks in a breath as he feels Sawamura’s chest press against his back, shivering as Sawamura’s hands trail down his neck and move to grip his shoulders.

“Of course you’d blame the innocent crows.”

“ _Innocent_?” Kuroo’s chuckle morphs into a moan half-way through when he feels Sawamura’s tongue swipe behind his ear. “You know _two_ of your innocent crows have personally aided one cat and one owl in getting off today?”

“Huh. Is that so?” Sawamura’s hands leave his body suddenly. Kuroo groans at the loss, but then Sawamura leans over and rests his entire weight on top of him. He arches down to wrap his hands firmly around Kuroo’s where they still lay over his crotch. “Want to make it three?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you keeping track that's EnnoMoto, BokuTsukki, SugaAka, KenHina & KuroDai all thrown into one chapter, what larks. (& TanaNoya if you squint real hard & *Naruto voice* believe it)
> 
> In _almost_ related news please love yourself  & check out the first ever art of EnnoMoto ~~ http://tmntransformer.tumblr.com/post/141979382107/waaah-im-so-happy-i-think-i-might-cry  
> IT'S THE BEST THING !! ♡(∩˃o˂∩)♡ !! 
> 
> *forcefully drags everyone into this rare pair with me* Sorry, not sorry.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYHEYHEYYY ~~
> 
> Just wanted to say a BIG thank you to everyone for the advice & support last chapter (´□`●)♡ !!
> 
> As everyone I spoke with said they were comfortable with it I've included a scene (hint: KuroDai shower) that cranks it up a notch (spoiler: not the whole hokey cokey). 
> 
> I've never written anything Beyond the Fluff before so I apologise in advance if it's painfully awkward! I really did try. :;(∩´﹏`∩);:
> 
> If this is too much for you but you didn't want to mention it you can ctrl+f to: _“Captain?” Kuroo looks up, blinking in the direction of his name_ ...
> 
> Everything after that is about the same as previous chapters, but if at any point you become uncomfortable honestly just let me know because I can post stuff elsewhere & you can still enjoy this fic!! ♡
> 
> ALSO DUE TO POPULAR DEMAND: **TANANOYA.** (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Kuroo makes a sound he’s sure he’s never made before. Something between a wail and a whimper that gets stuck in his throat when he becomes aware that the sound is coming from him. Sawamura’s hands still against his, his fingers curling a little before they retract slightly and close around his lower abdomen. 

“Sorry,” Sawamura’s forehead lands softly on his shoulder, warm puffs of his breath blowing across Kuroo’s back, “I keep pushing you. We don’t have to do anything. I’m happy just like this.” He places a feather-light kiss on the back of Kuroo’s shoulder and leans away, hands making to fall from Kuroo’s body. Which is pretty much the opposite of what Kuroo wants.

“No.” He wheezes, hands stuttering up to grab hold of Sawamura’s wrists and pin them back into place against his sides. “I–” He doesn’t know how to articulate what he wants. He’s never been in a situation close to this and had always sort of believed he’d inherently know what to do once he found himself in one. But he doesn’t. He has no idea what to do or what to say, all he knows is that the slither of space that’s been created between his back and Sawamura’s front is a problem. He tugs Sawamura forward by his wrists as he arches himself back. Sawamura lands on top of him much heavier than before, a hot breath of air spilling from his lips. Kuroo wriggles a little, trying to angle his head and look at him properly.

“ _Kuroo_.” Kuroo can’t tell if the gravelly voice Sawamura uses to say his name is a warning or a question – it sounds a little like both – but he likes how he can feel his name vibrating through Sawamura everywhere they’re connected. It’s as if he’s under Sawamura’s skin just as much as Sawamura is under his.

“Mhm?” He hums, peppering kisses along Sawamura’s jaw, wishing he’d stop looking away from him like that when Kuroo can already see the blush adorning his cheeks. He slots his fingers in between Sawamura’s own and squeezes. _I want you to touch me_ he says with the squeeze. _I want to touch you_ he says with a bite at Sawamura’s neck. _Please look at me_ he says with a gentle tug of his teeth on Sawamura’s ear lobe. He strokes the backs of Sawamura’s hands with his thumbs. _I’m just nervous._ Sawamura turns slowly, eyebrows drawn together. He doesn’t have to say anything for Kuroo to be able to read the hesitation painted across his face.

Kuroo shifts a little more, angling himself so that Sawamura is weighted completely on his right shoulder. He brings up his left hand and smoothes the lines on Sawamura’s forehead. They’ll never get anywhere if Sawamura’s constantly worried he’ll go too far and Kuroo’s constantly panicking that he’s too inexperienced. And Kuroo wants to get everywhere with Sawamura. His hand glides down Sawamura’s face and around to the back of his neck so he can drag his lips to meet his. Sawamura makes a choked sound, fingers squeezing around Kuroo’s and Kuroo uses his surprise to slip his tongue into Sawamura’s mouth, licking deliberately slowly along the roof of his mouth. He makes to pull away but Sawamura chases after him, tongue rushing out to slide against his sloppily. A few weeks ago Kuroo had never kissed anyone before, but he decides he can’t be entirely unskilled as Sawamura gasps out a moan when Kuroo sucks his bottom lip into his mouth.

“I want to.” Kuroo pants across his lips, hand still clasped around Sawamura’s neck so he can keep their foreheads pressed together. He wants anything and everything that Sawamura’s willing to give. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“Oh.” For some reason it’s Sawamura who glows red with embarrassment at this admission. “Right.” He nods a little dazedly, eyes never leaving Kuroo’s. He licks his lip; Kuroo’s eyes tracing the movement greedily. “Right.” Kuroo’s heart thuds painfully in his chest at the look that falls over Sawamura’s face. It only takes a moment for Apprehensive Sawamura to drop away. A grin crawls across his face as his pupils blow wide. Kuroo’s never seen his eyes look quite so dark before, but he recognises the way his jaw sets and the levelled gaze he’s giving Kuroo; this is Captain Sawamura. Kuroo almost laughs out loud at the fact that Sawamura has entered his Captain mode here, naked in the shower room, draped over Kuroo’s shoulder. Almost laughs. But it tappers off his tongue into a moan as he realises with a start that means Sawamura’s about to _take control_ here, _naked in the shower room_. Sawamura licks up his laugh where it fell from his lips, the sound soft and gentle as he nudges Kuroo’s head back to face forwards. The heat of his gaze lets Kuroo know they’re both staring at the same thing: Kuroo’s painfully hard.

“Uhm–” Kuroo feels the need to break the heavy atmosphere that’s settled around them, but Sawamura cuts him off.

“You don’t have to do anything.” Kuroo shudders before Sawamura’s hand even touches him. The build-up is too intense and he can’t tell if time starts to move in slow-motion or if Sawamura is deliberately moving slowly to tease him. His hands. His hands that ruffle Kuroo's hair playfully and stroke along his face so tenderly. He’s always been a little in love with how warm and large Sawamura’s hands are and he’s suddenly overwhelmed by the realisation that his hands are going to touch him; he can no longer look. He squeezes his eyes closed tightly, body almost jerking completely off of the stool when Sawamura’s hand wraps around him heavily.

But that’s all he does. His hand is still and solid, an unmoving warmth around him. Confidence rolls off of him in thick waves that make it difficult for Kuroo to catch his breath as he tries to pull himself back and push himself forwards, desperate for any kind of movement. It’s nearly impossible with Sawamura weighing him down on his back and holding him in place with his free hand.

“ _Sawamura_.” Kuroo’s unmistakably begging but he’s always has been a little shameless so it doesn’t bother him. He just needs more. Sawamura chuckles hotly in his ear and then he’s dragging his hand upwards in a single, firm stroke. Kuroo groans, head flopping back. His eyes snap open when Sawamura doesn’t pause like he expects him to when he reaches the end, languidly moving back down Kuroo’s entire length. Kuroo blinks at the ceiling, wondering if maybe this was a bad idea after all; Sawamura’s barely touched him and he can already feel himself teetering on the edge of collapse.

“You’re so hot.” Sawamura breathes, setting a pace that makes Kuroo’s stomach curl as whines escape passed his lips. His fingers twitch. He desperately wants to grab hold of something. He’d always imagined getting intimate with Sawamura in a bed somewhere – so what if he’s a little vanilla – where he could curl his hands into sheets. Their current location is distinctly void of sheets. Sawamura’s free hand starts to roam across his body, feeling his abs at the same time his occupied hand reaches the tip, thumb stroking across his slit slowly, spreading his precum as he strokes down. “You’re so wet.”

“Shit.” Kuroo’s hands latch onto the only things they can find, Sawamura’s forearms, as he shudders in a breath, panting at the ceiling and urging himself not to cum yet. To hold onto this moment for as long as possible. “Sawamura.” He wants to tell him to slow down, that he won’t last much longer like this, but he can’t seem to find the words.

“You’re leaking a lot.” Kuroo was definitely not expecting a running dirty commentary from Sawamura. Wasn’t expecting that the low pitch Sawamura’s voice has dropped to would be almost as much of a turn on as having someone else’s hand pumping along his length, finger tips flirting with the vein on the underside. Wasn’t expecting Sawamura to be digging into his side, heavy and hard like he is either.

“You’re,” Kuroo pants, trying desperately to keep himself together, “hot too.” It takes every ounce of self-control he has left in him to curl his body forwards and drag it back against Sawamura’s hardness. It’s worth it as the motion causes Sawamura to suck in a sharp breath, hand stuttering for the first time. Kuroo repeats the motion, drinking up the groans that slip into his ear as Sawamura’s length slides against his side.

“Kuroo.” Sawamura’s hand floats up from Kuroo’s abs, skimming across his nipple and landing purposefully heavy on the back of his head. “ _Look_.”

“Ah.” Kuroo gulps. “That’s– That’s–” definitely Sawamura’s hand pulling expertly up on Kuroo’s cock. It’s the most obscene thing he’s ever seen and it’s too much. His fingers curl tighter around Sawamura’s forearms and he shudders so hard the stool under him squeaks forwards a few inches along the tiled floor. The sound it makes does nothing to cover up Kuroo’s shout as he cums. Sawamura’s hand continues to stroke him, hold only a fraction looser, and the over-stimulation of it makes Kuroo whine pitifully. Sawamura growls hotly, biting down on Kuroo’s shoulder. Kuroo yelps, eyes rolling back to regard the ceiling again and is only vaguely aware of Sawamura’s hips snapping forwards as his own cum decorates his side in hot bursts. For the next few minutes the only sounds that fill Kuroo’s ears are Sawamura’s thudding heartbeat and the water hitting the floor; they never did turn off the shower.

Sawamura detaches himself from Kuroo’s shoulder, leaving a string of saliva connecting him to it, and nods at Kuroo, where his hand is still wrapped warmly around him.

“Is that why they call you Sonic?”

“Wha–?” Embarrassment settles over him heavily and he pulls his hands away from Sawamura to hide his face. “How do you even know about that?” Sawamura chuckles, hand abandoning him to curl possessively around one hip. At the back of his mind Kuroo makes a note to complain about how he’s ended up with cum on both of his sides now when Sawamura remains mostly clean.

“You really think Tanaka and Noya didn’t send me a picture?” He scoffs, peppering kisses along Kuroo’s neck.

“Well!” Kuroo huffs from behind his hands. “You’re one to talk! I didn’t even have to _touch_ you.”

“Yeah I know.” Kuroo can feel Sawamura’s smile against his skin. “You look really good.” Kuroo peaks through his fingers to glare at him. “And you sound really good.”

“Why are you so smug?”

“Smug?” Sawamura cocks his head to the side, humming a little as his eyes rake up Kuroo’s body in an obvious way. “Hmm.” He leans in and licks behind Kuroo’s ear, hand tugging the hairs at the back of Kuroo’s head. His tongue trails hotly down the side of his neck and Kuroo whines despite himself, arching up into his touch. “If I had to guess, I’d say it’s because you’re all mine.” Kuroo squawks, hands leaving his face to slap at Sawamura.

“You’re so gross.” He doesn’t really care though, the certainty with which Sawamura had staked a claim over him makes his stomach flood with warmth.

“Yeah well,” Sawamura shrugs, hand falling from his hair to stroke softly down his spine. “I’m all yours so I guess we’re even.”

“Sawamura!” Kuroo whines, leaping up from the stool so quickly Sawamura almost tumbles over it. Kuroo doesn’t look back as he takes two steps to stand under the warm spray of water, ears burning. “How can you say such embarrassing things?”

“Oh sure,” Sawamura’s laugh echoes around them warmly, “ _I’m_ embarrassing! Says the guy dripping in cum with a stool design imprinted into his arse.” Kuroo jerks his head.

“You’re not supposed to say things like that!” He moans, though in reality he has no idea; he’s never daydreamed beyond climax.

“Oh yeah?” Sawamura raises an eyebrow at him, nudging his arm playfully with his elbow as he joins Kuroo under the same shower head despite there being a dozen more all around them. “What am I supposed to say then?”

“Nothing.” Kuroo decides on impulse, smiling wickedly as he’s struck with an idea. “You’re supposed to wash me until I’m completely clean,” he coos, gesturing needlessly at his sides. “And massage me until there are no stool imprints anywhere!” He adds ruefully.

“Oh no,” Sawamura sighs seriously, hand reaching out and grabbing one of Kuroo’s cheeks. He squeezes it lightly, kneading the flesh with his fingers, his face lighting up with a smile when Kuroo squeaks at the unexpected contact and rocks forwards onto his tip toes. “What a truly terrible punishment.”

* * * *

“Captain?” Kuroo looks up, blinking in the direction of his name. Sawamura had insisted on massaging him everywhere. Twice. Yesterday he’d never been touched intimately by anyone before. Today he's scored a hat-trick of hand jobs off of Sawamura. It’s funny how life plays out.

“I forgot my pyjamas.” He says distractedly as Yamamoto halts in front of him. He’d only realised a few minutes ago that because he’d assumed it was a fake shower he’d never brought a change of clothes with him. And he’d left the clothes he’d stepped out of on the floor to soak up a healthy amount of water.

“…Okay.” Yamamoto stares at him a little funnily and Kuroo tries to remember if that had been the question he’d asked.

“Wah! Kitty Cat!” Over Yamamoto’s shoulder Bokuto appears, panting and slightly red in the face. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

“I forgot my pyjamas.” Kuroo repeats, clutching his towel a little tighter. Bokuto’s face wrinkles in the same funny way Yamamoto’s is. Kuroo laughs at them.

“Bro, where were you?” Bokuto’s eyes glint in a way Kuroo’s sure he should recognise.

“I went for a shower.” He runs his free hand through his wet hair as if to illustrate his point. Bokuto snorts, nudging Yamamoto at his side.

“You’re supposed to get clean when you shower, not dirty!” Kuroo furrows his eyebrows in confusion, sniffing the inside of his elbow. Smells clean to him. In fact as he’d used his shower gel he smells like Sawamura. If he wasn’t feeling so drained and boneless he’d probably struggle to fall asleep smelling like this.

“Why were you looking for me?” He asks Bokuto when he realises he's still giggling at him with Yamamoto.

“Oh!” Bokuto snaps to attention. “Tomorrow night we’re hosting camps traditional last night scary stories sleepover.” Bokuto nods proudly, perhaps hoping that if he sounds convincing enough neither of them will question him. Neither of them are convinced.

“What are you talking about?” Kuroo frowns.

“What traditional last night scary stories sleepover?” Yamamoto narrows his eyes.

“The one I made up accidentally like an hour ago.” Bokuto admits, deflating immediately. “My team already went along with it so you guys _have_ to! Or else we look stupid!”

“Huh.” That seems reasonable to Kuroo, he nods an agreement.

“Why did your team lie about it for you?” Yamamoto is clearly in a difference space to Kuroo, who just wants to find his pyjamas and sleep, if he deems it worth his time to find out all the answers right now.

“Because I accidentally told Tsukki we were hosting one.” Bokuto pouts, nibbling on his lip a little. “So he can be in my room all scared! And I can comfort him!” He puffs out his chest a tiny bit, as if he wants to be proud of his plan but is unsure how his audience will react. Kuroo for one, thinks it’s an amazing idea. A scared Sawamura is something he wants to see.

“Excellent bro!” He swaps which hand is holding his towel so he can thump Bokuto’s back encouragingly. “Consider Nekoma there!” Bokuto chirps happily, relief filling his face as he pats Kuroo in return.

“Wait.” Yamamoto looks at the two of them a little lost. “You’re crushing on the bean pole?”

“Ah!” Bokuto reels back as if shocked, obviously only now realising he’d been a little too honest with his explanation. “Not exactly!”

“It’s a secret.” Adds Kuroo with a wink. “Like you going after Ennoshita.” It’s really only fair that they both have the power to out each other. Yamamoto grins.

“Well, with a butt load of gays under one roof it’s bound to happen.” He nods reasonably. Bokuto snickers.

“Butt load is very fitting!” Nekoma’s door jerks open, a stern looking Yaku sliding into view.

“Can you guys not giggle over butts in the morning?” He grumbles, rubbing at the corner of his eyes.

“Sorry!” The three of them trill in unison, a little ashamed for having woken Yaku up. Bokuto whispers a goodbye and skips happily down the hallway back to his own room. Yaku opens the door wider to let Yamamoto pass but holds his hand up at Kuroo.

“What happened to you?” He frowns meaningfully at Kuroo’s towel and bare feet.

“I forgot my pyjamas.” This is maybe the opposite of what Sawamura had said when he had told him to sneak to bed quietly.

“Ah-huh.” Yaku smirks up at him.

“I went for a shower.” Kuroo explains, confused as to why someone as smart as Yaku is failing to understand.

“If that’s the story you’re sticking with, you might want to cover up the canine marks indented into your shoulder.” He rolls his eyes as Kuroo stares down at the deep red marks in shock. He hadn’t realised Sawamura had bitten him hard enough to leave an impression.

“I forgot my pyjamas.” He adds automatically, face flooding with colour when all Yaku does is sigh and shrug the door open to let him in.

* * * * 

“And I read in the local paper that he single-handedly fought a fire in an old people’s home. And won.”

“I heard that too! Didn’t he battle it with his fists, going back in _multiple_ times to carry people out safely?”

“Yes! Many, many times! And all of them were crying. Happily crying! Because he’s such a hero.”

“Completely a hero. In his free time he volunteers at cat orphanages. Often times he’s there to hold the mother’s teeny paw as she gives birth.”

“Wait, Ryuu, how are they orphans if their mothers are right there?”

“Huh. Well. Obviously they’re dying. He holds their teeny paws as they give birth _and then die_.”

“Tragic!” The way Noya moans dramatically, throwing himself on top of Ennoshita is the final straw. He snaps his eyes open, not bothering to pretend he hasn’t been awake for a while and glares first at Noya’s big brown eyes blinking up at him from his stomach and then at Tanaka’s which stare adoringly down at the two of them.

“What the fuck are you two talking about?”

“He has such a filthy mouth in the morning.” Tanaka tuts airily, tickling Noya in the side until he wriggles over enough that he can flop down next to him and blink up innocently at Ennoshita too.

“He has a pretty filthy mouth in the evening too, so I’ve heard.” Noya mock whispers into Tanaka’s ear. The two of them regard each other seriously for a second and then erupt into giggles, spluttering noisily. Ennoshita wrestles an arm out of his blanket and swats at their heads.

“No need to get so physical Chikara,” Tanaka scolds, patting Ennoshita's shoulder soothingly. “Me and my man here were just discussing Tokyo’s biggest and most notorious hero. We didn’t mean to wake you at all.”

“But since you did wake up!” Noya hurries on, leaning his head onto Tanaka’s shoulder. “We’ll fill you in!” They stare at each other again before snorting at Noya’s unintended double entendre.

“Tokyo’s biggest and most notorious hero?” Ennoshita is immediately sceptical.

“Yup!” Noya nods cheerfully. “Mr. Yamamoto.”

“Also known as Tora to close personal friends and fellow members of the famous tricycle pin-up boys.” Tanaka adds in a rushed monotone voice. Ennoshita briefly wonders what cartoon voiceover he’s attempting to impersonate.

“Volleyball star by day; gardening genius by night.”

“Stud by day; stud by night.”

“And by stud we mean hopelessly romantic!”

“Yes! And endlessly loyal!”

“A true and honest catch.”

“Chikara really, he’s such a dream, you couldn’t wish for more!”

“Will you get to the point already?” Ennoshita grits out, pushing them each on the side of the head just enough to knock their heads together.

“But…” Tanaka tips his head to the side. “That _is_ our whole point.”

“Your whole point is Yamamoto?” Ennoshita sighs meaningfully, pushing himself up onto his elbows and staring down at the two pitiful faces before him.

“How mean.” Noya pouts, sniffling exaggeratedly.

“Tora’s a hero!” Tanaka adds stubbornly. “He fights fires _with his fists._ ” Which also sounds a lot like a cartoon now Ennoshita thinks about it.

“You know it doesn’t count if he started the fires himself right.”

“He spends his free time nursing orphaned kittens!” Noya buries his face in Ennoshita’s chest with a wail.

“Except for when he’s getting blown by incredibly dashing country men of course.” Tanaka adds, waggling his eyebrows in the way he knows annoys Ennoshita the most.

“ _He told you?”_ Ennoshita had warned Yamamoto that if he told a soul then he’d bite his dick off. And well, looks like one Yamamoto Taketora, Tokyo’s biggest and most notorious hero, is about to lose six and half inches. Tanaka grins dopily.

“Nah, of course not!”

“He said _a gentleman never tells_.” Noya adds with a nod, voice dropping to a lower drawl Ennoshita assumes is meant to be Yamamoto's.

“But we knew you were considerably less gentlemanly so took a wild guess.” Ennoshita flops back down onto his back, pressing his fingers into his eyes to try and burn their smug little bastard faces from his memory.

“I hate you guys. I hate you guys _so much._ ”

“He loves us.” Noya whispers emotionally. “Ryuu that’s the voice he uses when he loves us.”

“Bro.” Ennoshita flinches away from Tanaka’s warm hand as it strokes adoringly down his face. “We totally love you too.”

“Did you guys really just wake me up to torment me?”

“No! Of course not! Did ya hear that Yuu, he reckons we’re tormenting him!”   

“Tormenting him with love maybe.” Ennoshita doesn’t have to open his eyes to know they’re sharing another stupid look. If he has to suffer through this all day he really is going to bite Yamamoto’s dick off. He kicks up his legs suddenly, leaning up on Noya’s side as he’s the lightest, and rolls them over. His blanket traps the two of them nicely under him.

“Woah.” Tanaka sucks in a breath. “I kinda see what Tora was talking about now.”

“Yes!” Noya crows. “Very sexy Chikara!” Ennoshita feels his face flood with colour. He coughs to try and hide it but doesn’t move away; they don’t deserve to be free quite yet.

“Did you have a purpose or can I go to breakfast now?”

“Oh? In a hurry to be somewhere?”

“Got a date perhaps?” Noya winks as Tanaka licks his lips suggestively.

“Y’know Ryuu, for someone who _insisted_ he was straight last year Chikara sure sucks a lot of dick.”

“One dick.” Ennoshita corrects, face burning as soon as the word spills from his mouth. “One time.” He adds weakly.

“One dick one time?” Tanaka’s mouth drops open into a little ‘o’. He twists his head to look at Noya’s side. “I think he’s in love with Tora.” Noya vibrates with excitement next to him.

“Yeah? Yeah! You might be right! You sucked my one dick one time and now you totally love me!”

“Bro, that is _exactly what I was about to say_.” Tanaka’s eyes glisten with emotion. Noya chokes back a fake tear.

“Sometimes I think we have the same brain.”

“Sometimes I think you air heads share one brain too.” Ennoshita leans on a hand so he can flick them both in the forehead. They smile at him pleased with themselves; Ennoshita thinks maybe they didn’t take what he said as an insult.

“Anyway Chikara, we set you up on a date tonight.” Tanaka sighs wistfully. “I fear it was unneccessary as you’re so blatantly in love anyway. We needn’t have interfered.”

“You set me up on a date?”

“Yah-huh! With Mr. Yamamoto – volleyball star by day; gardening genius by night!” Noya giggles to himself. He obviously enjoys that intro to have used it twice already.

“You know he’s not even a gardener.”

“And yet he managed to pluck a pretty flower like you right outta the concrete.” Tanaka does the annoying eyebrow waggle again.

“We’ll consider accepting that he’s not a real gardener if you accept the date.” Adds Noya, cackling into the room.

“This isn’t a negotiation!” Ennoshita lifts up Noya’s side of the blanket only to shove his head under it and suffocate him a little bit.

“Wow,” Tanaka tuts, “you’re being so unreasonable. All you have to do is come with us to Fukurodani’s traditional last night scary story sleepover thingy and hold his hand when he gets scared.”

“He’s immeasurably brave and strong,” Noya’s muffled voice calls out from under the blanket, “but he still likes to hold hands with pretty flowers when he’s scared.” Ennoshita lets Noya out just so he can stare at the two of them seriously.

“If I say yes will you _swear_ not to tell anyone about the,” he lowers his voice to barely above a whisper, “one dick one time thing?”

“I’ll only think about it late at night to myself.” Tanaka nods earnestly.

“Oh, yes.” Noya agrees, “I’ll only think about it late at night with Ryuu.”

“Bro,” Tanaka leans closer to Noya, still looking at Ennoshita as he whispers, “we can totally action-replay it.” 

“Bro.” Noya squeaks, face burning as he nibbles on his lip. “You be Tora.”

“Bro!” Tanaka sucks in a startled breath, his gaze finally snapping away from Ennoshita so he can nuzzle into the side of Noya’s face.

“Do we have a deal or not?” Ennoshita shakes the two of them.

“The deal is so had I’d shake your hand if I wasn’t a human burrito!” Noya smiles at him toothily.

“Great.” Ennoshita leans back to let them wriggle free, sighing as he does so. They roll over each other, excitedly shouting about getting breakfast with someone who definitely is not one dick one time. Not even eight in the morning and Ennoshita already feels like he’s sold his soul to two devils.

“Woah.” Ennoshita blinks up wearily, wondering who wants to pester him now, only to find Sawamura staring down at him with concern. “What happened to your leg?” Ennoshita follows Sawamura’s gaze. The soft skin above his knees is littered with scratches.

“Uhm,” it’s a blessing in disguise that he was already red in the face. As he looks up at Sawamura again his eyes catch on his arms. “What happened to you?” Anything to avoid his own shame. Sawamura glances at his forearms where deeper, longer scratches carve a path from half way down his arm to his wrists.

“Cat scratched me.” Sawamura states blankly, fingers twitching along one particularly painful looking mark.

“Oh.” Ennoshita nods understandingly. “Yeah me too.”

* * * *

On his way to pick up Kenma for breakfast Hinata bumps into Kuroo. Physically walks straight into him in fact. He shakes his head and laughs a little; he’d been distracted by the memory of Kenma’s soft mouth against his.

“Kuroo-senpai!” He feels slightly embarrassed about failing to notice someone as tall as Kuroo, “sorry!” Kuroo’s answering smile is almost blinding.

“Shrimpy!” He coos enthusiastically, ruffling Hinata's hair with both of his hands. “I didn’t see you there!” It’s maybe the first time in Hinata’s life someone has told him that and he’s felt like it isn’t a jab at his height. Kuroo sighs deeply, smile gentle and eyes warm.

“Ack!” Hinata’s not entirely stupid. He knows the feeling of floating. And that’s exactly what Kuroo looks like right now. Like he’s floating. “Kuroo-senpai!” His voice leaves him in an excited shriek. “Did Sawamura-senpai kiss you?” Hinata watches in amazement as Kuroo’s laugh bubbles up out of him from his very core. How wonderful camp has turned out to be for everyone, he decides, happy that Kuroo’s finally gotten a kiss from Sawamura. Though they’re maybe not close enough for Hinata to ask him what flavour lip balm was successful for him.

“Three kisses!” Kuroo announces to the empty corridor, throwing his arms out wide. “But I’m only telling you because you’re my cupid.” He adds with a wink. Hinata nods his head, puffing up to show how important he takes his role as cupid.

“Wah! I’m so happy for you!” Kuroo’s gaze seems to snap into focus then, the way he’s looking down at Hinata changing so completely, but still soft and warm so Hinata doesn’t think he’s said too much.

“You’re really cute, Shrimpy.” Kuroo says, patting his head fondly. Hinata feels his face flush because he’s not cute at all. He’s loud and shrill, but has strong leg muscles that allow him to jump high enough to impress Kenma. He wonders if he’s supposed to call Kuroo cute back, but that seems entirely wrong to him; Kenma is the cute one.

“Thanks!” He settles on, beaming happily. Kuroo smiles down at him, quirking his head a little.

“Ney, did Kenma kiss you?” Even though it’s the only thing Hinata’s been thinking about since it happened his face still glows as red as a cherry, which seems to be answer enough for Kuroo who barks a happy laugh up into the air and starts walking away.

“I’m happy for you too!” He yells over his shoulder, cheeks a little pink. It’s kind of cute, now that Hinata thinks about it, but a completely different sort of cute to Kenma. He’s still standing there bemused when Tsukishima wrenches the bathroom door open aggressively, shower bag in one hand and towel thrown over his shoulder.

“You look happy.” Tsukishima says like it’s the worst possible way a person can look. “I guess the weather must be nice down there.” He doesn’t wait for Hinata to reply, twisting away dismissively to wander back to their room. Maybe camp hasn’t been wonderful for everyone then, Hinata shrugs, humming to himself as he springs back into step to pick Kenma up for breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Me, drinking an Innocent smoothie as I write smut_ : life is all about balance.  
> ~(˘▾˘)~
> 
> Oh! & I got a tumblr prompt for some KuroDai which you can find here ~ http://archiveofourown.org/works/6455284 ~ it's not meant to be compatible w/ this storyline but as you guys are mostly here for KuroDai you might like it ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp! Sorry this chapter took twice as long as usual! My uni term is ending soon so I've been drowning in a few too many assignments; SUCH FUN.
> 
> This chapter is kind of Bokuto-centric & I would apologise for it but a lot of people requested more Bokuto so you basically did this to yourselves.
> 
> I'd also like to thank @vivalakoala for telling me her & her friend acted out TanaNoya interactions from last chapter in real life & she confused my fic w/ canon :") ♡ SUCH GREAT COMPLIMENTS & for endlessly cheerleading me on & putting up with my constant yelling of BokuTsukki & EnnoMoto head-canons... She did actually request I find a way to work Kindaichi (she loves him an unhealthy amount) & poop play into this fic, but it just didn't feel right in this chapter... maybe a future one! ƪ(‾ε‾“)ʃ

Bokuto doesn’t make the decision to ask Konoha first exactly. It’s more like he wakes up to Konoha sleeping next to him, drooling all over his pillow as usual, and knows he’s going to ask him because he has to ask someone. Konoha is just lucky their beds are side by side. Bokuto waits five minutes exactly – he knows because he counts to three-hundred patiently in his head – as his nan has always told him that five minutes is a polite amount of time to wait for someone. But Konoha is still asleep. Which is actually a little rude of him now that Bokuto thinks about it. So he holds his nose until he coughs awake.

“Bokuto?” Bokuto smiles at him. Some people have truly amazing morning voices that seem to splinter out of their throat; Konoha is one of these people. It’s really fun to listen to.

“I need you to be Sasuke for maybe two minutes.” Early on in their first year Shirofuku had confessed to everyone – after only a week or two of loud speculation – that Konoha was her favourite player on the team simply because his name was the same as Naruto’s village. And she loves Naruto, of course. Sasuke too but he doesn’t share her love for eating in quite the same way Naruto does; Bokuto sympathises heavily with her on this point – Naruto is clearly superior. Their Captain at the time had found it so funny that he’d taken to calling Konoha random characters from Naruto’s names on a daily basis. Konoha had fought back with bad impressions of said characters which ultimately ended up working against him because everyone loves them. The first thing Bokuto did when he was officially announced Captain was to make sure Konoha was given shirt number seven – it’s Konoha's favourite ninja team and he always does their impressions the best.

“Right now?” Konoha blinks at him, voice still splintery, and pushes himself up with his elbows slowly. “And wait, Sasuke?” Normally when Bokuto needs advice he goes to Naruto.

“He’s always more successful with girls.” Bokuto frowns. Being successful with girls might actually be the opposite of helpful in this situation. Then again Sasuke did manage to reel a handful of boys into his orbit.

“Bokuto, it’s like seven in the morning and you want Sasuke for some _girl_ advice?” Bokuto nods.

“Kind of. Not really. Similar maybe? But before that part.” He’s still nodding when Konoha sighs heavily, shakes his head and sits up fully.

“Bokuto,” he pitches his voice lower, expression serious, “what do you want?”

“Ah! Sasuke!” It’s funny because his voice sounds nothing like the real Sasuke, but it’s Konoha’s Sasuke and he’s the only version Bokuto’s ever had the opportunity to speak to so he likes him more. He hunkers down, shuffling closer to Konoha and lowering his voice. “How do you know when you _like_ like someone? Instead of just thinking they’re pretty?” He doesn’t add _like everyone else_ because he’s gotten into trouble for that before. Bokuto mostly finds everyone pretty. Of course some people are prettier than others but he’s yet to spend time with someone who hasn’t shone prettily for at least a moment.

“I see.” Konoha nods knowingly. “I’ve never liked someone first. People risk their lives for me and I reject them for many years.”

“I see.” Bokuto repeats back a little shocked. He doesn’t see at all. “So when people risk their lives for you, you don’t like them?” That’s perhaps for the best; Bokuto doesn’t want anyone to risk their life for him.

“Eventually I do. After I’ve killed a few people and fought in a war. I realise the first one who followed me is still there. And I like her.” Konoha nods definitively. Bokuto doesn’t have anyone who follows him. It sounds a little creepy actually so he’s kind of glad he doesn’t.

“What about Naruto?” It’s still early in the day and Bokuto’s hopeful that Konoha will humour him for a little while longer. Because Sasuke turned out to be no help whatsoever. Konoha’s mouth tips up on one side into a smile, huffing a breath of air out of his mouth and shaking his head slightly.

“Good morning Bokuto, dattebayo!” His Naruto voice is a little better, or maybe the catchphrase just helps. Usually he’s more spirited in his Naruto-mode but Bokuto’s willing to overlook it this time because it’s early. “Sasuke said you wanted to ask me about girls! Which makes sense because I’m the best, dattebayo!” Konoha fake laughs, it’s so good that it's like Naruto is actually there with him.

“Right. Yes. Maybe.” Not girls. “How can you tell the difference between wanting to kiss everyone and wanting to kiss just one person?” Konoha furrows his brows, eyes narrowed and hums consideringly.

“I think maybe when you think about kissing you always end up thinking about them, dattebayo.”

“Oh.” Slightly more helpful than Sasuke; he should have known to go to Naruto from the start.

“But maybe it’s also wanting them to be happy, even if it’s not with you, dattebayo.” Bokuto blinks. “That’s what Sakura-chan would say anyway! And girls are always better at things like this, dattebayo!”

“Ah! Sakura-chan!” Bokuto sits up straight, excited to be able to get advice from all of team seven at once.

“No.” Konoha is back. “Sakura-chan is unavailable since she really has to pee.” He pushes Bokuto back off of his futon with both hands, wriggling himself out from under his blanket and wandering off, presumably to pee. He pauses by the door, looking at Bokuto as if he wants to ask him why he was seeking such advice in the first place, but then shakes his head and disappears. Maybe Bokuto should have asked the real Konoha, just to be polite, but Naruto _did_  just tell him girls are better at things like this.

* * * *

Shirofuku is the prettiest girl that Bokuto’s ever known. She reminds him a lot of a squirrel – one of those small red ones. Her hair is a little reddish and when she runs it poofs up as if it’s collecting air. She smiles like Bokuto imagines a squirrel would smile and she laughs with a little chattering sound, eyes always crinkled closed. But the way she manages to stuff so many rice balls into her puffed out cheeks is definitely her most squirrel-like feature and, other than her gentle fingers when they high-five and the way she always laughs at his jokes, it’s Bokuto’s favourite thing about her. He finds her exactly where he expects her to be: the canteen.

“Bokuto-kun?” She’s mastered the art of being able to speak when her mouth is full without letting any crumbs fall out.

“Yukie!” Bokuto slides himself into the seat opposite Shirofuku, not bothering to mask his distress. Next to him that short girl with the green eyes from Ubugawa shuffles along. She always wears her hair in pretty pig tails, Bokuto’s noticed. Suzumeda’s sat next to Shirofuku and stares at Bokuto pointedly, nodding at the Ubugawa girl. Suzumeda is pretty too; she never stops smiling and her face is sprinkled with freckles. She nods once more, slower this time and Bokuto understands that he’s done something wrong. “Ah! Sorry!” He twists his head rapidly to look at the girl next to him. “I’ll be gone in one second! I just wanted to ask Yukie something!” Shirofuku stuffs another rice ball into her mouth.

“Komi-kun.” She replies with a wave of her hand. “Only behind by two so the gap is getting smaller.”

“Akaashi-san was ahead again. By four?” Suzumeda tips her head to the side to look at Shirofuku, combing her fingers through her hair as she drags it up into a ponytail.

“Mhm.” Shirofuku agrees, licking the tips of her fingers. “Ahead by four.”

“I’m not here about the high-five tally.” Bokuto slams his hands onto the table. Mostly because he likes to be dramatic, but also to grab their attention.

“Oh?” Shirofuku looks across at him, leaning forwards slightly to better study his face. “I did think you were a little early today.”

When Bokuto was a first year bench-warmer one of the things he'd noticed was how often his Captain high-fived certain people. Their libero more than anyone else. High-fives are good. Important even. High-fives are a nice way to boost morale and build team spirit – Bokuto had looked it up online – so it made sense that it left him feeling a little ignored whenever a match went by without him getting a single one. When he became Captain he’d decided that he didn’t ever want anyone in Fukurodani to feel like they weren’t as important as anyone else. And high-fives can be given for any reason you want them to be; it doesn’t always have to be about a good volleyball play – some of Bokuto’s favourite high-fives of all time haven’t even been volleyball related after all.

But being a Captain is hard and he’d noticed he tended to favour Akaashi when it came to high-fives, especially during matches, so he’d asked Shirofuku and Suzumeda to keep a daily tally for him. He checks with them during their warm-up everyday so he knows who to focus his high-fives on.

“How do you know when you’re in like with someone?” Bokuto thinks half of the reason he finds Shirofuku so pretty is because she’s never shocked by anything he says. Suzumeda immediately burns red and looks away, fluffing at her fringe with her fingers, and the little Ubugawa girl next to him lets out a tiny squeak of surprise. But Shirofuku just smiles, nodding once to herself and picks up another rice ball. Not many people are on the same brain-wave as Bokuto. It’s nice feeling understood.

“I don’t really know. I’ve never been in like with someone.” She rolls the ball between her fingers. “But I imagine it’s maybe like everything, even your _most favourite_ thing, is better if they’re there with you.” She places the rice ball into Bokuto’s hand, picking up another one for herself. “But that’s just what I think. Don’t any of your friends have girlfriends?”

“Wah!” Not girlfriends, no, but one of his best friends recently managed to get themselves a boyfriend! “Yukie you’re amazing!” She nods as if she knows as much, closing his palm around the rice ball and patting the back of his hand fondly. He jumps up from his seat, turning back just before he runs off to give them his first high-fives of the day. Even the little Ubugawa girl. They definitely deserve them.

* * * *

“It’s not funny.” Sawamura grumbles, looking up at Kuroo from Karasuno’s doorway with a red face and damaged expression. Kuroo has never disagreed more strongly with him.

“It’s a little funny.” Sawamura scowls, rolling the long sleeved under-shirt he’s apparently borrowed from Suga back over his forearms.

“What that I have to choose between melting to death or everyone asking me about the cat that mauled me in the bathroom? Yeah, very funny.” Kuroo’s witnessed angry Sawamura only a handful of times, but enough for him to know that Sawamura isn’t currently angry at all. A little embarrassed maybe, but Kuroo’s seen him wear a darker blush.

“Fair’s fair.” Kuroo tugs down the neckline of his top, lifting his shoulder up a little bit to pop it through the hole and show Sawamura. Sawamura’s fingers trace along the edges of his own teeth marks softly.

“ _Shit_.” His eyes snap up to Kuroo’s face, worried as always. “Sorry.”

“Ney, I’m rubbing off on you.” Kuroo quickly checks down the hallway both ways to confirm no one is around and then dips down to kiss the furrow away from Sawamura’s eyebrows. “You never used to say 'shit'.”

“You’re a bad influence.” But he’s smiling as he lifts Kuroo’s top back over his shoulder and tugs him gently down the hallway. Still smiling as they collect some breakfast and join Kenma and Kageyama even though neither of them so much as blink in greeting. His smile doesn’t even fade when Bokuto materialises out of nowhere, red in the face and trying to catch his breath, Hinata glowing impressively red at his side.

“There you are!”

“Here I am.” Kuroo confirms, shuffling closer to Kenma so that Bokuto can sit next to him.

“Bro,” Bokuto pillows his head onto his folded arms on top of the table and looks at Kuroo as if he hasn’t seen him in years. “I feel like I spend half of my life looking for you.” Sawamura’s hand reaches out and flicks him on the forehead.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t use cheesy lines on my boyfriend right in front of me.” He goes back to eating his porridge. Bokuto and Kuroo share a dopey grin, watching with joint amusement as Sawamura seems to realise they aren’t on their own, turning to stare at Kageyama next to him. Kageyama averts his gaze, sucking on the straw of his milk box intently when Kuroo’s pretty sure it’s empty. “I mean–” He cuts himself off, face pinking; there’s not much else he could mean.

“Don’t worry Sawamura-senpai,” Hinata chimes from the other side of Kageyama, smiling reassuringly, “Bakeyama is really good with secrets! Or maybe he just forgets?” Hinata dips his head consideringly, laugh bright and warm as he dodges Kageyama’s hand swatting at his face.

“If you’re just going to tell everyone anyway you might as well get your arms out.” Kuroo hums, smiling fondly at Sawamura’s grouchy face.

“Oho?” Bokuto eyes Sawamura’s under-shirt curiously. “What happened to your arms?”

“Cat scratched me.” Sawamura mumbles, flashing Kuroo a warning look as he scoops up some more porridge.

“Last night in the bathroom.” Kuroo adds, knowing Bokuto will understand. His eyes go wide.

“Ohoho! The same one that bit you I bet?” Sawamura kicks them both under the table, Kuroo first and harder, inclining his head at Kageyama next to him. But Kageyama doesn’t even seem to be paying attention, reading the back of his milk box with rapt interest. Hinata however stares at them with wide eyes.

“Which bathroom? Is it still there now?” He elbows Kageyama roughly, vibrating with excitement. “Hey maybe we can go and find it!” Kuroo almost chokes on his laughter.

“It’s not there anymore,” Kenma peers over the top of his console, looking at Hinata with a soft expression. “I looked this morning.”

“Owh.” Hinata pouts, flumping down in his seat.

“We can double-check if you want.”

“Yes please!” Hinata and Kageyama respond in unison, expressions wide and hopeful. Kuroo might be wrong but he thinks Hinata is genuinely excited about looking for a cat whereas Kageyama just wants an excuse to flee the table; he hasn’t been able to look in Sawamura's direction since he accidentally referred to Kuroo as his boyfriend. Kenma’s mouth tips into a half-smile.

“Okay. We should go now though, so we’re not late to practice.” Hinata explodes from his seat, scooping up his and Kenma’s breakfast bowls. He leaves Kageyama to get his own, poking his tongue out at him as he skips off to the bin. Kageyama takes off after him, throwing insults at his back. Kenma jabs Kuroo on the shoulder with the side of his hand. “Just because you and your boyfriend are perverts, doesn’t mean mine is.” He hisses, but his ears are completely red. He turns, shuffling his hair in front of his face and doesn’t look back at them as he leaves. That’s his way, Kuroo knows, of telling him that he and Hinata are officially dating.

“Kenmaaaa,” he wails as Kenma rapidly disappears from view. He twists around to stare at Sawamura. “He’s the cutest person ever invented!”

“Pfft! _Invented_!” Bokuto giggles. “Wait, what if he really was invented? What if he’s like a cyborg?”

“He’s not a cyborg.” Kuroo squashes Bokuto’s face between both of his hands. “I’d definitely know if he was one.” If Kenma is a cyborg then Kuroo wants to order a tiny Kenma to keep him company when the real Kenma is otherwise occupied. Maybe they come in small enough sizes that he can keep one in his pencil case for when he’s bored in class. He doesn’t know how happy the real Kenma would be about that though. Or Sawamura for that matter.

“What if you’re also a cyborg!” Bokuto screeches, pointing a finger at Kuroo accusingly. “That’s why you’re so good at volleyball and your hair is so weird!” Sawamura snorts.

“Is this your way of telling us you’re a cyborg, Mr. Top Five in the country?” He raises an eyebrow at Bokuto’s hair. Bokuto snaps his mouth shut, swivelling his head from Sawamura to Kuroo and back again. He finally settles on Kuroo’s face and sighs deeply.

“Hey, Kitty Cat, how did you know you liked Sawamura? Like _liked_ him?” Kuroo can feel his face heat up, and opts for Kageyama’s tried and tested method of completely ignoring Sawamura. He picks up his glass of water, hoping that if the water doesn’t cool him down then the glass might at least obscure Sawamura’s view of his red face.

“I don’t know. I just knew.” He mumbles around the edge of his glass, shrugging for good measure.

“But,” Bokuto frowns deeply, shimmying closer to Kuroo and dropping his voice to barely above a whisper. It’s still loud enough for Sawamura to hear however, considering he’s directly opposite them and there’s no one else at their table. “How did you _know_? I mean, when we played Kiss, Live With, Push off a Cliff you didn’t even kiss him at first! You kissed Azumane!” Kuroo pulls his glass away from his face in shock, water spraying out of his mouth and across the table “ _And_ Hinata! _And_ Tsukki!” He slams the glass down, grabbing onto Bokuto’s ear and twisting sharply. “Wha-? Hey! _Ow_!”

“Bro!” This moment is a very close-second for the most mortified Kuroo has ever felt. First of course being his mum having a backstage pass to his first kiss. He chances a look up at Sawamura, worried that he’ll be disgusted or offended, but mostly he looks amused. He raises an eyebrow at Kuroo, eyes glinting dangerously.

“You guys play Kiss, Live With, Push off a Cliff?” Kuroo can’t work out if he’s being made fun of yet, Sawamura’s sincere tone of voice completely at odds with the smirk growing on his face.

“Yeah!” Bokuto nods enthusiastically, yanking Kuroo’s hand away from his ear. “All the time! And last training camp he originally said he’d live with you! So I just,” Bokuto nibbles on his lip, “I just want to know how _you_ _know_. That it’s _like_ like!”

“So you kissed Asahi?” Sawamura’s tone lilts; he’s definitely teasing Kuroo now. “And lived with me? So… who’d you throw off the cliff?”

“Suga-san!” Bokuto answers for him in a wail. “Can you believe it?” Sawamura leans back in his seat, a surprised and happy laugh rippling out of it. “I totally kissed Suga-san.” Bokuto confesses, though no one asked. “Threw you off the edge because we thought you guys were dating then. Naturally you had to go.”

“Naturally.” Sawamura agrees, locking eyes with Kuroo.

“You don’t care?” Trust Sawamura to be the type of person to worry over a few scratch marks on his arm, but not mind when someone tells him his boyfriend harboured daydreams of kissing one of his best friends and kicking the other off a cliff.

“Nah, why would I care? It’s not like you actually kissed Asahi.” Sawamura shrugs, smirking in full now. “Besides, it’s just a game. It’s not a reflection of your actual feelings. You love Kenma too much to ever really kiss Hinata.” He winks. He actually winks. Kuroo shoves Bokuto simply because he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He wants to crawl across the table and plant himself in Sawamura’s lap. He wants to rip both their tops off and remake last night’s shower session right here in the canteen. The only thing keeping him from acting out this fantasy is the knowledge that Sawamura wouldn’t want to do so. At least not with so many people around.

“Well actually he changed his mind about Hinata… who did you kiss instead? Freckles?” Sawamura snorts, staring at Kuroo like he’s seeing him from an entirely different angle.

“First Asahi, now Yamaguchi?”

“Oh yeah!” Bokuto nods, obviously pleased that Sawamura’s finding this conversation so entertaining, “he always picked the innocent ones to kiss. Like Shibayama and didn’t you kiss Sarukui once too? I forget.” He waves his hand around. “He likes corrupting the innocent.”

“Bro!” Kuroo ruffles Bokuto’s hair with both hands vigorously. “At least I’m not a literal pervert preying on a first year - unlike some!”

“But that’s what I _mean_.” Bokuto implores, blinking up at Kuroo with wide eyes. “Sawamura is completely not your type! He doesn’t even have that much hair!” Bokuto pauses to regard Sawamura, placing a hand around his mouth to block Kuroo from seeing. “He has a massive hair kink.” He whispers, entirely too loudly, shooting Sawamura a not-in-any-way-discreet thumbs up before looking back up at Kuroo. “So, how did you know?”

“I don’t know.” Kuroo shifts in his seat. It’s hard to describe it because it’s a feeling, not a thought. And also he doesn’t want to say it out loud with Sawamura sitting right there: how embarrassing. “Can’t you ask someone else?” Bokuto groans, folding himself forwards to bang his head on the table.

“I’ve asked everyone!” He lifts his head up only so he can bang it down again. “Sasuke said it was like just caving in to a stalker. Naruto said all my sexual fantasies would be about them, but that he thought Sakura-chan would tell me it was like wanting them to be happy even if you’re not together! But then Yukie said _the exact opposite;_ that it’s like being happier doing _everything_ together! Kenma said it felt like wanting to try more but also that it smelt a lot like cherries. And then Kageyama told him that smells didn’t count and that it was the exact same feeling as when he’s playing volleyball except without playing volleyball, then he got hit a lot by Hinata for dismissing Kenma, after which he repeatedly screamed that Kageyama was in love with volleyball, only to tell me that like like feels completely _gwah_ all the time. But sometimes it feels like he’s a balloon. Which can be scary.”

“Oh.” Kuroo stares at the back of Bokuto’s head, wondering if that’s the end. “Kenma really said that?” The wanting to try more is cute but cherries are Kenma’s favourite; for him to say that liking Hinata smells like cherries is _really_ cute. Impossibly cute. Kuroo would hug him if he hadn’t already run off on a fake-cat hunt.

“Not helping!” Bokuto shouts, still face-down on the table.

“Sorry.” Kuroo cards his hand gently through the back of Bokuto’s hair, trying to soothe him. “I really don’t know how to explain it.” He catches Sawamura’s eye over the top of Bokuto’s head and wonders how he would answer. Sawamura smiles, flicking his gaze down to Kuroo’s hand and back to his face. He silently mouths _hair kink_ and winks again at Kuroo before scraping the last of his porridge onto a spoon.

And it’s this, he wants to tell Bokuto, it’s this exact feeling that blooms in his chest when Sawamura smiles just for him, or winks just for him, or rolls his eyes like he’s exasperated but chooses to stay by Kuroo’s side anyway. It’s the tiny crinkles he gets when he laughs at something Kuroo’s said and the soft look that takes over his face whenever Kuroo kisses him. It’s being in a room filled with other people but finding their gazes always lock. It’s the feeling of coming undone under Sawamura’s hands with his breath warm in his ear. It’s the way he’s leaked into every aspect of Kuroo’s life to the point where pandas will forever remind him of him. To the point where even his neighbour’s bike, which they’ve owned for as long as Kuroo can remember, is now Sawamura’s in his memory simply for how spectacular it looked between his legs. And it’s overwhelming and scary and endlessly embarrassing and yet Kuroo can’t get enough, is delighted by every new thing he learns about Sawamura and addicted to the electric feeling that thrums through him whenever they touch. It’s waking up and simply knowing that the day will be a good day because Sawamura’s in it.

“Ah.” He realises, stroking Bokuto’s hair with a heavy hand so that his head flops to the side and he can look him in the eye. He grins down at him. “It feels like my heart has a boner.”

* * * *

Bokuto isn’t playing his best. He’s not playing his worst either though so Akaashi doesn’t mention it at first. He had assumed that Bokuto was distracted by something, but by their fifth match of the day he’s starting to wonder if maybe it’s not that something is distracting him but that something is bothering him. He keeps chewing on his lower lip and when they sit down for a drink after winning matches; his knees jitter up and down constantly. Maybe it should be annoying but Akaashi isn’t used to seeing Bokuto fidget so much and it not be in excitement. It’s worrying.

“Bokuto-san.” Bokuto picks at a loose thread on his shorts, muttering something undecipherable under his breath. “Bokuto-san?” Akaashi can count on one hand the number of times he’s had to call Bokuto’s name more than twice to get his attention. He shifts over on the bench, close enough that their shoulders are touching. “Bokuto-san?” It’s only when his fingers press gently into Bokuto’s inner elbow that his head snaps up, eyes wide and searching.

“Akaashi?!” His gaze seems to focus a little as his blinks rapidly, taking note of how close they’re sitting. “Are you feeling okay?” Akaashi frowns.

“I’m fine Bokuto-san. Are _you_ okay?” Bokuto nods his head a little, a hum at the back of his throat convulsing into a squeak as he seems to realise Akaashi isn’t buying this poor façade of fine. His head slows to a stop.

“I don’t know,” he admits in the smallest voice Akaashi’s ever heard. “ _How do you know_?”

“How do I know what?” Bokuto’s fingers start tugging harder on the loose thread.

“Akaashi,” Bokuto pleads, as if urging Akaashi to understand what’s bothering him telepathically. He sighs deeply when Akaashi fails to respond. “Have you ever had a,” he licks his lips nervously “ _crush_?”

“Oh.” Akaashi feels all the colour drain from his face. He’s been trying very hard not to think about Bokuto stumbling in on him and Sugawara yesterday. He’d sort of assumed they were all in an unspoken pact to never mention anything that they saw. Because although Akaashi and Sugawara’s arrangement left little to the imagination, it didn’t take a genius to work out why Bokuto and Tsukishima had ended up in that closet too. Lying awake in his bed last night Akaashi had decided that teenage hormones were the root cause of a lot of things. Undeniably the reason why when the door clicked closed behind a shell-shocked Bokuto and stuttering Tsukishima, Akaashi had found himself easily convinced into continuing on from where they’d been interrupted. Hormones teamed with a compelling argument from Sugawara; Akaashi never stood a chance.

“Akaashi?” Bokuto’s face inches closer, fingers twirling the loose strand around his finger. Akaashi watches as the tip of his finger turns red from where it’s pulled too tightly.

“Bokuto-san, I would rather not speak about what happened yesterday here.” Or anywhere really, but Bokuto is Akaashi’s closest friend and he’s never been able to deny him for long. Bokuto reels back, eyes blowing wide in alarm.

“No! No, no, no _Akaashi no_!” Bokuto attempts to wave his arms in front of his face but has clearly forgotten he’d just tethered himself to his shorts and yelps in surprise when his hand is tugged back down. “That’s not what I meant!” With a sharp tug he snaps the loose thread, shaking his hand until it unravels slowly from his finger.

“It isn’t?” Bokuto is usually easy for Akaashi to read, one quirk of his eyebrows and Akaashi can gleam what kind of mood he’s in, so it’s annoying him that he doesn’t know what to make of the furrow in his brow and the pinched turn of his mouth.

“Of course not!” It’s almost like Bokuto’s offended by Akaashi’s assumption, the stiffness of his shoulders nearly as apparent as the whine in his voice. “That’s the kind of thing I’d only talk to you about if you brought it up.” Bokuto states with a sense of finality.

“Oh.” It’s a nice feeling, Akaashi decides, knowing that this secret is safe with Bokuto. And that he won’t prod for details. “Okay.” Bokuto visibly shakes himself.

“What I meant was…” he trails off, eyes darting around the room. “I think everyone is pretty.”

“Everyone? Even girls?” They don’t talk about it often, not in the way Akaashi knows Bokuto and Kuroo do, but it’s not a secret that neither of them are sexually inclined towards girls. Akaashi wouldn’t say he finds girls pretty. Girls can be cute and soft and he’s met girls that smell nice, but they’re not pretty, at least not in the same way he finds Sugawara pretty.

“Yup, even girls.” Bokuto shifts a little on his bench, nodding to where Shirofuku and Suzumeda are jotting something in their note pads. “Suzu-chan has these really pretty freckles and she’s always looking out for everyone. Yukie has a laugh that is definitely in my top five favourite laughs of forever and really soft hands.”

“Oh. I’ve never noticed.” Akaashi doesn’t think he’s ever touched Shirofuku’s hands.

“Mhm.” Bokuto turns back to face Akaashi. “It’s not an I-want-to-hold-your-hand pretty, but more let’s-always-be-friends pretty!” Akaashi is even less sure he knows what Bokuto’s talking about. “Boys are I-want-to-hold-your-hand pretty.”

“All boys?” Akaashi wipes the palms of his hands on his shorts, worried that Bokuto will notice his hands have gone clammy at even the mention of holding hands.

“Yes,” Bokuto doesn’t blink, “all boys.”

“Oh.” They stare at each other for a second, Akaashi thinking of all the times Bokuto’s pointed out how someone is beautiful to him. He can’t possibly have wanted to hold so many hands; he only has two himself.

“But, it’s not _usually_ an I-want-to-kiss-you pretty.” Akaashi doesn’t miss the emphasis Bokuto places on ‘usually’ and perhaps in another conversation he’d comment on it. Konoha had joked before one training camp that Bokuto’s first crush would be there and Akaashi has always been curious to know if he had meant Kuroo. It’s this thought that makes Akaashi remember the wording of Bokuto’s original question; _have you ever had a crush?_

“Ah, Bokuto-san, have you found someone you want to kiss?” They both know Akaashi is referring to Tsukishima, Akaashi’s just not sure if he’s allowed to say his name out loud or not.

“I don’t know.” Bokuto slumps in on himself. “I think so but it’s different to normal.”

“Different?”

“Mhm. Like, like,” Bokuto drums his fingers on the tops of his knees, “normally I-want-to-kiss-you pretty is really, very embarrassing. And I want to protect them always because they’re _so_ pretty.” He sighs wistfully. “But this,” one of his hands comes up and clutches over his heart. “I want to protect him and he’s maybe the prettiest person ever, but,” he chews his lip, watching Akaashi out of the corner of his eyes nervously.

“But?”

“I also want to poke him until he laughs and pull his hair until he’s angry and tell him stories that will make him cry in fear. He’s like a scab I want to pick until it bleeds all ugly and nobody, nobody, I asked said it should feel like that. Not even Sasuke!”

“Oh.” Akaashi looks around the gym, searching for Sugawara and frowning when he can’t find him; Karasuno must be outside running forfeits again. He’d said something similar to Akaashi yesterday, that he wanted to watch him come undone. He must not have been one of the people Bokuto spoke to because he’d definitely have agreed with him. “Bokuto-san everyone feels things differently.” He doesn’t expand, leaving Bokuto to think it over for a moment by himself. Akaashi doesn’t know whose advice he sought out, but he’s willing to bet not one of them gave him similar answers. Things like crushes don’t often have reasons. He waits until their coach blows the whistle to signal them to head to a different court before patting Bokuto on the shoulder. “You don’t need to ask anyone to know the answer to your question Bokuto-san.” He stands up, stretching his arms above his head. Bokuto blinks at him, face pink.

“It’s a scary feeling Akaashi.”

“Yes,” Akaashi offers him a rare smile, “but you’re the bravest person I know.” He walks away before Bokuto’s mouth can catch up with his brain, smile growing at the shrieks of delight that follow after him.

* * * *

“Yo, Captain Heart Boner.” Sawamura sits down on the grass next to Kuroo heavily, bumping his shoulder into Kuroo’s. Kuroo splutters around the rim of his water bottle, thumping his chest twice with a closed fist to work his cough out of his throat. He looks down at Sawamura plastered on his side. They’re close enough that Sawamura can see the tears that have gathered in the corner of his eyes.

“I think I prefer Captain Kitty Cat.” He groans, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “At least it’s self-explanatory.”

“Y’know Captain Heart Boner is pretty self-explanatory too, right?” Sawamura raises an eyebrow.

“It isn’t!” Kuroo insists, jostling Sawamura with his shoulder. “People will think I get a boner over hearts or my boner is in the shape of a heart or something even _worse_!”

“I promise you no one is going to think that. And I’m not just saying so because I sort of like you.”

“Sort of?” Kuroo grumbles, picking at the grass in between his legs.

“Mhm,” Sawamura hums deliberately close to Kuroo’s ear, enjoying the way the close proximity makes Kuroo shudder, a light blush creeping around the back of his neck. Kuroo looks at him out of the corner of his eyes, fingers still tugging clumps of grass out of the dirt. “Sort of.”

“You’re sure that’s your final answer?” Sawamura recognises the lilt of Kuroo’s voice as a teasing threat, but figures he’s safe from any real harm with their teams dotted around on the hill next to them. He smiles, nodding firmly.

“I’m sure.” Kuroo’s hand shoots out quickly, tugging the back of Sawamura’s top. Before Sawamura even has a chance to shout out in surprise Kuroo’s other hand is stuffing handfuls of grass down his back. Sawamura has been playing volleyball for nearly four hours; the grass sticks to his sweat instantly. Sawamura throws out his hands in an effort to push Kuroo away, but all he succeeds in doing is losing his balance and slumping back on his elbows. Kuroo makes an incorrect buzzer sound, sprinkling grass on top of Sawamura’s head.

“I’m sorry,” he laughs, “that’s the wrong answer.” He tears at the grass in front of them flicking it unceremoniously in Sawamura’s lap. “Better luck next time I guess.”

“Oh?” Sawamura hooks his foot around Kuroo’s, dragging them towards him so that Kuroo has to stop throwing grass at him to catch himself in order not to fall. “Should have told you my heart gets a boner whenever you’re near!” Kuroo grunts when Sawamura pokes him in the ribs, folding himself over Sawamura’s knee and looking up at him from under ridiculous hair. If Hinata’s laughter didn’t sound so close Sawamura imagines he’d risk kissing Kuroo. Just a little bit.

“Mhm.” Kuroo’s hand strokes the soft skin at the back of Sawamura’s knee. Sawamura doesn’t tell him to stop because he’s pretty confident Kuroo’s back is shielding the action from anyone that might look over and see. Besides, Kuroo’s hands are warm; it feels nice. “I’d have accepted a heart boner as a correct answer.” His hand slides an inch up Sawamura’s thigh, pinching the muscle he finds there. “An actual boner would be good too.” He licks his lips, eyeing Sawamura’s shorts meaningfully. Sawamura slaps the back of his head.

“We’re outside.” He hisses, despite feeling his face flush warmer. “Anyone could see us.” Kuroo groans, wrapping himself more firmly around Sawamura’s leg.

“But today’s the last day,” he says with a small voice, breath tickling along Sawamura’s leg. “After today you’ll go back to Miyagi and who knows how long I’ll have to wait before I can stare at your shorts wishing I was a superhero who could see through clothes!” Sawamura smacks the back of his head again, a little lighter this time. His fingers linger on the hairs at the bottom of Kuroo’s neck.

“Tomorrow’s the last day,” he corrects, trying to ignore the painful squeeze of his stomach when he thinks about having to say goodbye. “We don’t leave until after lunch.” Kuroo rolls his head on Sawamura’s leg to meet his gaze.

“Okay, but tonight’s the last night.” Sawamura feels Kuroo’s pout pressing into his shin. “So you’ll sneak away with me again right?” Sawamura hums in mock thought.

“I don’t know,” he hedges, pulling his words out longer than necessary, “I’m really looking forward to having to hold your hand when you get scared.” He laughs at the indignant noise Kuroo makes as he pinches his thigh again.

“You’re the one who’s going to be scared,” he insists, lifting his chin up to rest on Sawamura’s knee, “ _I’m_ going to have to hold _your_ hand.”

“We’ll see.” Sawamura flicks Kuroo’s ear lobe. So long as he gets to hold his hand he’s not too fussed which one of them ends up scared.

“But after that,” Kuroo’s other hand fiddles meaninglessly with the laces on Sawamura’s shoe, “when everyone has fallen asleep, we can sneak away again.” He doesn’t phrase it as a question this time, nodding mostly to Sawamura’s shoe, but Sawamura can see the nervousness in his shoulders, can hear the uncertainty laced in his voice. As if there’s a possibility Sawamura’s going to turn down such an offer.

“Yeah, of course we’ll sneak away again.” He rolls his eyes at the beaming smile on Kuroo’s face.

“I’m really glad you’re not the goody-two-shoes I pegged you for,” he admits with a wink. He dips his head down, lips pressing a small kiss on Sawamura’s knee cap. “Make sure you bring all your boners!” Sawamura jerks his leg out from under Kuroo, kicking him away with a groan and falling onto his back in the process. Kuroo picks himself up from the floor, shaking his head and laughing at Sawamura sprawled out on the grass. Sawamura’s heart pangs at the sight, the sensation only worsening when Kuroo leans in closer to rub more grass into his hair. He must be spending too much time with him if even heart boners are starting to feel relatable.

* * * *

The bravest person Akaashi knows, Bokuto thinks, would definitely not act abnormally around their crush. They might allow their gaze to linger a second longer than usual in matches – especially when their crush has the longest legs in the entire world – but they wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. The bravest person Akaashi knows would probably grab their crush in a headlock to make sure he joins them for some extra practice in the third gym. He’d probably laugh at everyone’s jokes twice as loud and not feel embarrassed about stealing his crush’s glasses again because he’d done that before and it had only been fun, not weird at all. Most importantly though, the bravest person Akaashi knows wouldn’t be too chicken to tell his crush that he was his crush: A Confession.

Bokuto spends a lot of time concerned with this problem. Because he’s never confessed to anyone before and no one has ever confessed to him before. There are probably rules but Bokuto doesn’t know many of them – he’s seen a lot of confessions on T.V. so he isn’t completely in the dark. He knows that usually a note gets tucked somewhere with a meeting place and time and then the note sender will bow politely and present themselves. Sometimes they point out similarities they share, but mostly they list all the reasons why they like their crush, which is pretty scary to Bokuto. But the bravest person Akaashi knows wouldn’t be scared.

Part of him thinks of doing another round to gather intel from his friends, but he doesn’t want people to figure out he’s planning to confess and he definitely doesn’t want it trickling back to Tsukishima. In the end though he doesn’t have time to double check with anyone because before he knows it Hinata is crowing from his place on Kuroo’s shoulders as they chase after Lev to dinner, Akaashi is mumbling something about not wanting to keep Suga waiting and it’s just him and Tsukishima left in the third gym. Tsukishima looks torn about whether he should follow after everyone or wait for Bokuto to finish tying his shoelace. Bokuto hopes he didn’t notice him untying in the first place as an excuse to linger.

“Tsukki!” He straightens himself up, looking as determined as he can at Tsukishima in case he decides to run away for real. Tsukishima takes a step closer to Bokuto, face impassive. He drops to a bow before Bokuto has a chance to start speaking.

“Bokuto, I want to thank you.” His voice is very clear. “For helping me. It’s possible that tomorrow I won’t get a chance to.” He straightens himself, eyes softer than before. “So thank you.”

“Tsukki!” Bokuto wails, grabbing onto Tsukishima’s shoulders and bundling him into a hug. He clings onto him until he feels him relax – even if it’s just a little. He clings onto him until Tsukishima’s arms wrap loosely around him and he ducks his head down an inch to rest in the crook of Bokuto’s neck. “That was _so_ cool! You’re _so_ cool!” Bokuto can hear his voice echoing off of the empty gym walls so knows he’s being a lot louder than Tsukishima probably likes but he can’t help it. Tsukishima pats his back. Just once but it’s enough to plant the seed of hope in Bokuto.

“Thank you.” Maybe Bokuto’s just imagining it because he wishes it were true, but to him Tsukishima’s voice sounds warmer than before.

“Tsukki,” he pulls back but takes a firm hold of Tsukishima’s elbows, keeping them arm lengths apart. “You have an older brother?” Tsukishima blinks.

“Yes.” Bokuto was sort of expecting to get his brother’s name there but shrugs it off and continues anyway.

“Do you have any other siblings?”

“No.”

“Ah! So you’re the youngest! I’m the youngest too!” Bokuto’s excited that he had guessed as much for himself, because other than volleyball both of them being the youngest of their family was the only similarity Bokuto could think of.

“You have an older brother?”

“Two! Sort of,” Bokuto lets go of one of Tsukishima’s arms to wave his hand around. “I have two half-brothers and two half-sisters. All of them older! Like _way_ older.” They’ve already graduated from university – except his eldest sister who didn’t go to university and is already married with two kids.

“You’re one of _five_?” Tsukishima’s eyes widen a bit, in the way most people’s do when they picture five Bokuto’s – Bokuto has gotten used to it – but he’s not like his siblings in any way.

“Yeah, but I never lived with any of them or anything. They’re all from my parents first marriages and I’m the only one from their second so…” he shrugs, it’s no big deal. “They don’t like me very much.”

“Oh.” Tsukishima makes a low growling sound, huffing air out of the side of his mouth as he stares at the gym wall. “They’re stupid.” Bokuto’s afraid to blink in case he misses a single second of the pink taking over Tsukishima’s face. He doesn’t agree with Tsukishima, his brothers are actually super clever and work with their dad at his dental practice and his sisters are even cleverer, Chiyo works in a huge corporate building and Nozomi works at a bank part-time even though she’s a full-time mum. But none of that is really important compared to a blushing Tsukishima less than an arm’s reach away.

“You’re really beautiful. And really cool. And really good at volleyball. Awesome at volleyball! And you look the best in glasses! And the best not in glasses! Which must be magic because my dad looks like a mole rat when he takes his off–” Bokuto had a lot more he wanted to say but Tsukishima cuts him off by pressing his lips firmly against his.

“Stop talking.” He growls, the words thrumming across Bokuto’s lips. And Bokuto wants to pull back and tell him he has a crush on him – it’s the most important part of confessing after all – but then Tsukishima swipes his tongue along his bottom lip and he decides that maybe this is Tsukishima’s way of saying he understands. He opens his mouth to let Tsukishima slip his tongue in. It’s hot and wet. If Bokuto’s mistaken and it turns out Tsukishima doesn’t understand what he meant then he can always try again later. For now though he’d much rather pull Tsukishima closer, chest to chest, and steal his way into his mouth.

* * * *

All things considered Ennoshita thinks he’s pretty go-with-the-flow. He plays along with at least half of Tanaka and Noya’s nonsensical adventures, the ones he doesn’t being either during practice or having a strong likelihood of someone ending up maimed. Like that time Tanaka nearly lost a toe; Ennoshita is pretty attached to all of his toes. However he thinks he’d sacrifice one, maybe a little one off the end of his foot that wouldn’t be as noticeable, if it meant he didn’t have to partake in this particular mess.

Because he still can’t work out if this is all a joke. Hasn’t been able to figure out whether Yamamoto is genuine or not. Because he _seems_ genuine, but how could someone spend an evening failing to take over the world with Ennoshita and find him noticeable enough to confess to? Especially in a room filled with Karasuno members. Ennoshita rejected him on principle of not being the butt of some joke he doesn’t get.

But then Yamamoto had deflated, so crestfallen in the hallway that Ennoshita thought, if only for one moment, maybe it was real after all. And Yamamoto had insisted, voice a deep, soothing rumble, that he’d noticed Ennoshita from the very first day of their first training camp. That he’d told Tanaka and Noya because it’s against the Tricycle Code to not disclose matters of the heart. That they’d rigged it so that Ennoshita would be on his team that night. Which is all highly suspicious, highly unlikely and considering that Tanaka and Noya had a hand in it obviously a step in some elaborate hair-brain scheme that he wants no part in.

Yesterday morning when Yamamoto had found him again, soft in his pyjamas but eyes alert as he asserted that he knew what a liminal space was and this most certainly wasn’t one because otherwise his whole life is liminal – _I’ve only ever existed in Tokyo!_ – was equal parts adorable and infuriating.

Someone must have told he’d thought, his brain latching onto the only reason left to explain why this Tokyo ruffian is so persistent, so unembarrassed with his consecutive confessions. But Narita is the only second year in his class, the only one who knows about the things that get scratched into his desk over-night. Narita is the one who carries Ennoshita’s volleyball kit around in his bag for him so that it can’t get stolen or flushed down the toilet or accidentally set fire to any more. And Ennoshita wants to believe, more than anything else, that Narita wouldn’t have told.

So he’d kissed Yamamoto. Fast and brutal, forcing his tongue into his mouth without waiting for him to react because Ennoshita wasn’t going to let a punk from a random Tokyo school make him worried at a volleyball training camp; volleyball was supposed to be his safe space. So he’d kissed him with all the anger he’d kept buried for the last two years, daring Yamamoto to reel back and laugh at him, daring him to call him out and brand him as disgusting.

He hadn’t anticipated that Yamamoto would kiss him back. Equally as fierce, equally as bruising, his hands shoving onto Ennoshita’s shoulders, not to push him away but to flip them over, to cage him against the wall as he’d sucked on his bottom lip harshly. And Ennoshita had never been kissed before but he could tell he wasn’t the only one, the awkward trembling of Yamamoto’s hands on his shoulders more of a giveaway than the startled squeaks slipping past his lips. It had made him feel brave. In control. He might not know Yamamoto but Yamamoto doesn’t know him either; he has no idea how inexperienced Ennoshita is. So he’d dragged him backwards into the bathroom, hissing in his ear how it didn’t mean anything as he’d palmed Yamamoto through his pyjamas shorts until he came.

Yamamoto had smiled afterwards; all toothy and blissed out and planted a soft peck on Ennoshita’s lips. Ennoshita had fled. He’d freaked out. If it was a joke it wasn’t funny. And if it was a joke he was going to seriously bury the tricycle so far in the ground that the fires from hell would keep them warm for eternity.

“Oi, Chikara.” Tanaka waves a hand in front of his face. “What are you spacing out for?” His other hand is flopped lazily on top of Noya’s head, pulling at strands of his hair absentmindedly. Ennoshita forgets sometimes that they’re together now in this way. They’d always been together and the transition had been so gradual that no one had really noticed when the casual touches began to linger. It wasn’t until earlier this year when Tanaka had slipped on some ice, head-butted a lamp post and landed on the floor, blinking slowly at the faces peering over him that the nature of their relationship came to light. Noya had been overly concerned about the possibility of Tanaka getting a concussion, kneeling by his shoulder and demanding to know who he was. Tanaka had looked at him, face fond and pink from more than just the fall. _My boyfriend_. It had been as simple as that.

“Nothing, sorry.” Ennoshita shakes his head. Tanaka and Noya are the least likely to make fun of him for this.

“Right.” It’s obvious Tanaka doesn’t believe him but he doesn’t press the matter and for that Ennoshita is thankful. “Well, we’ll be going ahead then.” He flicks the centre of Ennoshita’s head fondly, smile much too large for his face and steers himself and Noya out of the room. Noya throws Ennoshita a double thumbs up, trilling a good luck song of his own invention; Ennoshita listens to it as it fades away from him.

He doesn’t know why he’s nervous. He doesn’t know why all of Karasuno have slunk out one by one to leave him alone. He still can’t work out the meaning behind the look Narita had given him as he patted his back twice as he left. He gets the feeling that everyone knows more than he does and it’s making him feel itchy and restless.

Yamamoto arrives less than five minutes later, rapping his knuckles across the already open door. He’s wearing his pyjamas too, everyone is according to Sawamura so they can all bundle into bed easily when Fukurodani's Fright Night is over, and has two pillows stuffed under one arm. In his other hand he’s holding a bunch of long stems with dozens of tiny purple flowers all over them. He smiles when he catches Ennoshita staring at them, holding them out a little more when he doesn’t make a move towards him.

“Uhm,” Yamamoto rolls the shoulder that has the pillows tucked under it, shifting his weight to lean on one hip. “I didn’t think the door would already be open.” Usually Yamamoto is a fidget, Ennoshita’s noticed. He scratches the back of his head a lot, and the side of his nose. His fingers never content to stay still; cracking his knuckles, fiddling with the hem of his shorts and Ennoshita’s hair when he was kneeled between him yesterday. Ennoshita shakes his head to clear it. He’s been trying not to think about that. Went so far as to avoid Yamamoto all day to not have to think about it. Because stroking him through his pyjama shorts in the bathroom in a fit of anger just isn’t the same as dragging him into a changing room and kneeling between his legs.

“Sorry. I could close it if you’d like?” Ennoshita steps over to the door, fingers curling around the doorframe. They’re about the same height, Yamamoto’s Mohican giving him a slight edge, so Ennoshita leans up on his toes so he has to look down at Yamamoto. Anything to gain a little bit of control in a situation vastly out of hand.

“Actually yeah, if you don’t mind.” Yamamoto’s smile doesn’t leave his face. Ennoshita had been mostly teasing but at a loss for what else he can do he nods and closes the door gently in Yamamoto’s face. Maybe this is the part where he’ll announce it’s all been a joke. Or a bit of a misunderstanding. When he'd said he liked Ennoshita he hadn’t meant it in _that way_ , just that he thought Ennoshita was a cool guy and he wanted to be his friend. He’d felt pressured and awkward throughout both the dick stroking and dick sucking episodes, but it doesn’t make him gay because after all he wasn’t the one touching a dick. Ennoshita closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath. He’s actually lived through this moment before. Only last time it came with _we didn’t even kiss, I’m not a homo like you_ that felt more like a punch in the gut than the actual punch in the gut he was given. Last time it came with a bloody nose, a black eye and a slur scratched into his forearm with a maths compass that he’d had to keep covered for weeks. Yamamoto raps his knuckles on the other side of the door. Ennoshita grimaces, but he’d survived last time so he could survive this too.

“Good evening.” Yamamoto’s smile is even wider than before, cheeks a little red. Leant against the wall at his side are the two pillows he’d had under his arm. He holds out the bundle of flowers once more. “You look really lovely.” Ennoshita frowns, looking down at himself.

“I’m in my pyjamas.” His voice cracks and he wills himself not to cry. He doesn’t even know why he wants to cry exactly. Just the relief when he opened the door to find only Yamamoto’s stupid face and no one else overwhelmed him. He’d smiled a little himself. Until he realised maybe the punch line would be revealed later on in the evening. He can’t let himself hope just yet.

“Yes. They’re lovely.” Yamamoto’s eyes flick up and down Ennoshita’s body. “I especially like your socks; they match your flowers.”

“Huh.” Ennoshita stares at his purple bed socks. Maybe he should have bought a different pair. “Wait, my flowers?”

“Well, yeah,” Yamamoto rolls his wrist around so the flowers turn a little. “What did you think I’d show up to our first date without any flowers?” He tips his head in question. Maybe the only big joke happening here is everyone pretending that Yamamoto is a gardener. Ennoshita thinks that would be nice. He takes the flowers from Yamamoto’s outstretched hand, bringing them to his face to sniff.

“They’re nice.” He doesn’t want to ask if they’re stolen.

“They’re heather. I tried to find some white ones too because they’re used for protection, but I ran out of time.” Without his hands holding onto the flowers he’s already began to fidget, picking at the skin around his nails.

“What do purple ones mean?” Ennoshita ducks back into the room to toss the flowers on his pillow. If the night ends badly he wants to be able to destroy them. But if the night doesn’t end badly… maybe he’ll take a photo to show his grandma.

“The purple ones are for good luck and,” Yamamoto trails off, looking deliberately away from Ennoshita when he glances up to see why he stopped talking.

“And?” Yamamoto must figure out that if he doesn’t tell Ennoshita he’ll just end up googling it later. His eyes click back to Ennoshita’s face. He nibbles on his lower lip.

“And traditionally given to someone you admire.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Ennoshita doesn’t know what to make of that, so instead of thinking about it he joins Yamamoto in the hallway, pulling the door closed behind him. “Shouldn’t we get going then? We’re already the last to arrive.” Yamamoto laughs, scooping down to pick up the pillows again.

“Yeah okay.” As he straightens back up he dips forward quickly, tiptoeing up and kissing Ennoshita’s forehead. “I’m looking forward to seeing you scared.” He teases, completely unaware that Ennoshita has already been terrified this entire time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALSO YOU SHOULD ALL CHECK OUT THIS WONDERFUL TANANOYA FIC ~ http://archiveofourown.org/works/6637234?view_full_work=true (I didn't write it but I wish I did it's just so good & because I'm a lucky ducky I managed to get myself a sneak preview & honestly _IT IS SO GOOD_ I cry)
> 
> & & & I did an EnnoMoto thingy here ~ http://archiveofourown.org/works/6549856 which you should all read too because the more people I drag into EnnoMoto hell with me the happier I'll be :") 
> 
> Thanks as always! ♡ You guys are the best! ♡ I live here http://tmntransformer.tumblr.com/ if any of you want to come & yell with me over anything.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S BEEN A MONTH !!  
>  1 - I'm so sorry, but now all my exams are finished so I'll be back to quicker updates again!  
> 2 - as a reward to myself for finishing all my exams, naturally I commissioned some more EnnoMoto... it's here ~ ~ http://tmntransformer.tumblr.com/post/144951016587/o-o-squeeeeee ~ ~ & let me warn you: _it is the cutest thing!_  
>  3 - In my absense this fic bypassed 1,000 kudos !!  
>  _ **I ' M Y E L L I N G ! !**_ _(´□`」 ∠)_  
>  (& I mean I've only accidentally kudos'd it like twice myself so that's still 1,117 from you guys!) so I want to take this moment to thank all of you for spending your time on my fic, for leaving love & comments & for just generally being the best!!  
> ♡♡ I'm a fan of all of you ♡♡
> 
> Also, I forgot to tell everyone last update, but I took a Haikyuu quiz & it turns out I belong in Johzenji, so if everyone could picture this fanfic being written by Terushima from here on out, that would be great. (ˆˇˆ)
> 
>  *** * * * NSFW NOTICE * * * ***  
>  The last section of this chapter involves some heavy-petting KuroDai. I've put a lil ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) guy between the section break, so you can skip over it if you want !!

Hinata notices him first, alerting Kuroo by grabbing a hold of his hair and squeezing his neck between his thighs before his mouth manages to catch up with his body.

“Ack! Isn’t that Tora-senpai?” Kuroo tears his eyes away from Lev’s back regretfully, knowing he’s never going to hear the end of being beaten in a race, and follows the direction that Hinata’s hands are tugging, wondering how Yamamoto has worked himself onto nickname status with the shrimp when he’s still being called Kuroo-senpai. It is a little cute he supposes.

“Ohoho?” Hinata’s right, it is Yamamoto, straddling a row of bushes with his arm splayed out as if he’s simultaneously trying to maintain his balance and hand something off to Fukunaga, stood diligently as ever on the path. Hinata’s small hands fall to rest on Kuroo’s cheeks, tipping his head up as he peers down.

“They’re burying the body, aren’t they?” He asks, voice quiet yet strangely unalarmed. Kuroo wants to point out that Kenma isn’t there when just yesterday Yamamoto had told him Kenma would be his go-to guy should there ever be an actual body, but he wants to find out what they’re up to more and the longer they dawdle wondering, the more likely it is that either Yamamoto or Fukunaga will look up and see them. So he opts for silence and creeps closer, holding onto Hinata’s shins to steady him. Hinata follows his queue, leaning forward to rest his chin on top of Kuroo’s head and not making a sound; Kuroo can only imagine how large his eyes are.

“Well, well, well,” Kuroo clicks his tongue for added effect to announce their arrival, placing a hand on his hip and staring exaggeratedly down at Yamamoto and Fukunaga. He greatly suspects that Fukunaga saw them approaching as they’re hard to miss with Hinata still perched on his shoulders, but he didn’t alert Yamamoto so they get to watch the way a shiver ripples up his spine before he twists his body in their direction, arms flailing.

“Tora-senpai!” Hinata screeches, arms and legs hitting Kuroo as Yamamoto loses balance and tumbles face-first into a bush. Fukunaga blinks at the space where Yamamoto was moments before, the edge of his mouth tipping up in a small smile when Yamamoto throws a thumbs-up over the top of the bush, his body re-appearing seconds later.

“I’m okay,” he wheezes, mostly to himself Kuroo thinks, as nobody asked. “I’m okay.”

“Tora-senpai! You’re bleeding!” Hinata leans his entire body over Kuroo’s left shoulder, flapping his arm at Yamamoto’s elbow where a small trickle of blood is dripping down his arm.

“Huh?” Yamamoto twists his arm in front of his face, seemingly unconcerned. “Ah, just a few thorns, nothing to worry about!” He smiles toothily as he begins plucking the row of thorns from his skin expertly. “It happens all the time.”

“The strength of an ace.” Hinata whispers fiercely into the top of Kuroo’s head. Kuroo clears his throat to get Yamamoto’s attention back of them.

“The shrimp here seemed to think you guys were burying a body, so we came to investigate.” Yamamoto’s face flushes a little, which only serves to make Kuroo more curious. Yamamoto fidgets, rubbing his elbow roughly and biting his lip. His eyes flick to Fukunaga momentarily as if he might spring to his rescue, but Fukunaga simply blinks back at him; perhaps he too is curious to know how Yamamoto will answer.

“Uhm, we were just,” Hinata swings his legs excitedly and Yamamoto clamps his mouth shut, staring up at him unsure, “actually maybe this is more of a cats-only thing.”

“What’s that meant to mean?” Kuroo snaps, holding onto Hinata’s shins a little tighter. “The shrimp is special to Kenma which makes him special to us! He’s like an honorary cat!”

“ _Oh_.” Hinata’s hands pat the top of Kuroo’s head gently. Even if Hinata wasn’t Kenma’s boyfriend Kuroo still thinks he’d be like an honorary cat; he’s their friend too.

“No!” Yamamoto jerks, as if he forgot he was knee deep in a thorn bush and had tried to make his way over to them. “What I meant was, I’m not sure it’s entirely my secret to tell… to crows.” Subtlety has never been his strong point and the widening crazy look his eyes get as he nods meaningfully at Kuroo is enough for even Hinata to grasp his meaning.

“Wah! It’s about Ennoshita-senpai!” Yamamoto’s face burns a darker shade of red and Kuroo throws his head back to cackle, forgetting that Hinata’s still balanced on top of him. In order not to fall off Hinata’s hands take purchase on whatever he can and Kuroo ends up with a yanked ear and a couple of fingers digging into his eye.

“Pfft!” Yamamoto snorts behind his hand, silencing himself at Kuroo’s answering glare.

“Sorry!” Hinata yelps, smoothing Kuroo’s ear back into place and curling over his shoulder to look at him in the face. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Two.” Kuroo smiles, enjoying the panic that sets in on Hinata’s face as he looks between Kuroo and his hand that’s holding up four fingers.

“I’ve blinded him!” He wails at Yamamoto and Fukunaga.

“Only half-blinded,” Kuroo points out, laughing at the stern look Hinata shoots his way.

“Mean!” He juts out his bottom lip, squawking indignantly when Kuroo jostles him back into position behind his head so he can get a good look at Yamamoto. There’s no way a little eye-poking is enough to distract him from a budding romance.

“So?” He prompts, leering at the stricken look that glances across Yamamoto’s face before he huffs out a breath of air and puffs out his chest. He’s clearly choosing not to be embarrassed in the slightest; a noble choice Kuroo thinks.

“I’m picking him some flowers.” He states simply, waving a hand at Fukunaga who brings out a bundle of purple flowers from behind his back.

“OoOoOohhh!” Coos Hinata, always the perfect audience, “for your date?”

“Ah!” Yamamoto throws an arm out at Hinata, pointing accusingly, “how did you know there was a date? _Huh?_ ”

“Little people know everything,” Kuroo explains, wondering if that’s the truth behind Yaku’s all-knowing powers.

“Tanaka-senpai and Noya-senpai were singing about it in the shower.” Hinata admits sheepishly. “It was a really cute song!”

“Oh, well so long as it was cute.” Yamamoto shrugs, smiling happily to himself as he turns to regard the bush.

“Y’know, I may be recently half-blind, but it doesn’t look like that bush has any flowers in it.” Not that Kuroo thinks Yamamoto and Fukunaga haven’t already done a splendid job, the huge handful of purple stems standing proudly in Fukunaga’s hands a tribute to their success. It’s just for someone who claims to be flower-picking Yamamoto appears to be knee deep in brambles.

“You might be right there,” agrees Yamamoto, wincing as a thorn catches the back of his calf as he rotates. “I’m looking for some white heather, but I can’t seem to find any.”

“And you thought this bush was the best place to look?” Fukunaga nods sagely at Kuroo’s question, sparing a glance at the darkening grass around them.

“A white flower?” Hinata vibrates excitedly, shimmying his legs out of Kuroo’s grasp and sliding down his back in one smooth motion. His feet land with a soft thud and then he’s springing away from Kuroo like a wind-up toy newly released. “Like these ones?”

“Shrimpy we’re lucky your hair glows in the dark or you might have been lost forever.” Kuroo joins Hinata in squatting around a patch of flowers. Hinata peers up at him eagerly and Kuroo really does not have the heart to tell him daisies and heather are nothing alike. Behind them Yamamoto lets out a string of curses followed by the sound of a snapping twig or two. Fukunaga makes it to them before Yamamoto does.

“Oh.” Yamamoto scratches his nose as he looks at Hinata’s bright smile surrounded by daisies. “Not exactly.” Maybe Hinata was right to be awed by Yamamoto’s strength, Kuroo thinks, amazed by how he plonks himself on the grass next to Hinata and explains the differences between heather and daisies and why he was looking for heather in particular.

“Ooohhh!” Hinata nods his head attentively, “but we can use these ones to make chains! I’ve done it before with Natsu!” Yamamoto throws his head back in a laugh, wiping at the corner of his eyes and ruffling the top of Hinata’s head.

“True! Maybe we should collect some anyway, you can make a chain for Kenma-san!”

“Kageyama too! Or else he’ll feel left out!” Hinata beams, swivelling around to look up at Kuroo. “Kuroo-senpai, you’re going to make some for Daichi-senpai right?”

* * * *

“They’re like, best friends now huh?” Bokuto sighs, hand cupping his chin as his elbow rests on the table. He flutters his eyelashes at the table in front of them where Kenma is adjusting Kageyama’s thumbs in the air, explaining how to toss a particular kind of invisible ball.

“I think it’s nice.” Other than improving their skill at volleyball, the point of a joint training camp is to improve their bonds with other schools. Sawamura doesn’t know Kenma as well as he knows Kageyama, but he knows they both have small, close-knit circles of friends, and he’s happy that they’ve been able to expand them, sitting across from Yamaguchi and Tsukishima like it’s something they’ve always done. Suga elbows him roughly.

“Your gross Captain thoughts are really putting me off my desert.” He jabs at his side for good measure.

“Hah!” Bokuto’s eyes brighten, “what gross Captain thoughts? Probably the same ones as me, right?”

“I doubt that, Bokuto-san,” but Akaashi’s smiling as he scoops another grape onto his spoon.

“ _Hehh_?” Bokuto crumples onto the table. “Why? I can be gross too!” Sawamura laughs, patting Bokuto on the back of his head as it’s the only part of him he can really reach. He side-eyes Suga.

“I guess we’ve also made some new bonds.” He says it mostly for the sour look he knows Suga will get; it’s an added bonus that he’s unable to stomach any more of his fruit bowl and pushes it over to Sawamura roughly.

“Speaking of bonds…” Suga trails off, winking at Sawamura and poking him in the side of the face until he’s looking at the door.

“Finally.” Sawamura doesn’t bother to lower his voice; everyone knows he’s been wondering where Kuroo’s ended up this time. Asahi is quietly munching on an apple on the same table as Tanaka and Noya behind him, so he’d eliminated the possibility that Kuroo was knocked out somewhere from another killer spike. Kuroo’s gaze lands on him and Sawamura can’t help the smile that blooms onto his face, feeling a little warm when Kuroo’s cheeks pinken. A part of him hopes he looks as dazzlingly stupid as Kuroo, but another part of him hopes he manages to hide it better.

“Ohoho,” Bokuto perks up, eyeing Sawamura consideringly, “more gross Captain thoughts?”

“Kenma!” Hinata appears in a shock of orange behind Kuroo, bursting forwards to the empty seat next to Kenma that’s already got his dinner laid out nicely for him. “I made this for you!” He places a long daisy-chain on top of Kenma’s head in a display so careful and delicate Sawamura begins to wonder if that’s really Hinata at all. “This too!” He loops a smaller daisy-chain onto Kenma’s wrist, fingers brushing over the back of his hand.

“No need to look so jealous.” Kuroo seats himself next to Sawamura, hands moving quicker than Sawamura has time to react. “I made you one.”

“ _Oh my God._ ” Suga sucks in a breath, twisting his head away so he doesn’t giggle right in Kuroo’s face. He might be the devil sometimes, but he’d never intentionally mock someone’s hard work.

“Don’t worry,” Kuroo leans over Sawamura to drag Suga back in his direction by his chin, “there’s one for you too.”

“No!” Suga’s mouth drops open as Kuroo places a daisy-chain on Suga’s hair, tweaking it at an angle so it rests more naturally. “I can’t tell if I hate you or love you Kitty Cat,” Suga admits, bringing a hand up to touch the little flowers on his head. “Thank you.”

“ _Bro_!” Bokuto whines, drumming his fingers along the table top impatiently, “you made me one too, right? Right?”

“Of course!” Kuroo loops another one off his arm, leaning up out of his chair in order to crown Bokuto properly. “There’s one for you Akaashi!” He trills, reaching over and placing a daisy-chain on top of Akaashi’s head before he has a chance to move away.

“Thank you Kuroo-san.” Sawamura has never seen someone look further away from thankful than Akaashi does at that moment. Without warning a flash blinks from Suga’s phone.

“Sorry,” he peers over the top sheepishly at Akaashi, “it really suits you.” Akaashi doesn’t say anything, prodding at a grape with his spoon, so Suga takes another photo of his reddening ears.

“I want one too!” Kuroo loops an arm around Sawamura as he flicks his phone at Bokuto.

“This isn’t fair, you don’t have one.” Sawamura pats Kuroo’s hair for emphasis. Kuroo turns to look at him, mouth half-open in response when a click comes from Kuroo’s phone.

“This is truly an excellent photo,” Bokuto nods sagely over the phone, “you’re completely lost in each other’s eyes!” Kuroo appears to take this as an immensely flattering compliment, squeezing Sawamura closer to him so their cheeks are crushed together.

“Cheese!” Kuroo yells, prompting Bokuto to take another string of photos. Sawamura allows exactly three before he shoves Kuroo away to rub at his cheek. He only allowed so many as a thank you for his daisy-chain crown.

“Bro!” Bokuto kicks Kuroo under the table, throwing a thumb over his shoulder to where Hinata has decorated Kageyama, Yamaguchi and Tsukishima. Sawamura takes a glance around the room, and sure enough Yamamoto has adorned Tanaka and Noya in daisy-chains, wrapped around their foreheads like warrior headbands, complete with matching wrist-cuffs. Asahi has daisy-chains looped around his bun and trailing down the back of his hair.

“Who are your last ones for?” Sawamura asks, indicating the remaining daisy-chains looped around Kuroo’s forearm.

“Well, the big ones are for Kai and Yakkun,” Kuroo wriggles his arm a little, “Fukunaga made ones for the rest of Nekoma.”

“And the little ones?” Sawamura raises an eyebrow at the two wrist-sized chains nestling in his palm.

“Ah,” Kuroo scratches the back of his head with his free hand. “One for me and one for you,” he admits, staring at the small flowers in his hand instead of at Sawamura, “we decided to make wrist ones for our boyfriends.” Sawamura coughs in case someone can hear how loudly his heart thuds at Kuroo’s explanation. Wordlessly he slips his hand through one of the chains, rolling it down to rest on his left wrist before looping the other one onto Kuroo’s. Bokuto lets out a contended puff of air, half a dozen clicks sounding from Kuroo’s phone.

“This is the gayest room in the world.”

* * * *

“Tsukki!” Bokuto throws his arms up to usher Tsukishima over to the doorway, grinning when the only protest Tsukishima gives him is an eye roll as he stands up from his futon and makes his way to Bokuto like he wasn’t actively running away from him just a few days ago. “I came to pick you up!” Which is maybe a little obvious, but Akaashi had told him that it’s better to be clear with his intentions in this kind of situation.

“Already?” Tsukishima quirks an eyebrow at Bokuto, looking down at the watch on his wrist. “Isn’t it a little early?”

“Hmm, maybe!” Technically speaking it’s only been about five minutes since dinner time, maybe a little longer as they’d all decided to keep Kuroo company as he ate his dinner. “But I was hoping to catch you still in your flowers!” Bokuto really likes the way Tsukishima scowls deeper when he’s trying to cover-up a blush.

“Ah. I had to take it off to shower.” Bokuto did too obviously, but his crown looks better on his damp, freshly washed hair than it did on his carefully spiked hair anyway, Konoha had told him so. Bokuto flaps a hand at Tsukishima.

“Don’t mind, don’t mind. But you can come now right? If you’re already showered?” Tsukishima looks over his shoulder at the rest of his team who are clearly all listening but doing great jobs of pretending otherwise. Bokuto is particularly impressed with Tanaka and Noya’s efforts, as they knock lightly along the wall closest to Tsukishima, whispering about searching for hollow spots. Freckles gives Tsukishima a double thumbs-up and a bright smile, a thing Bokuto knows is going to get Tsukishima to leave with him like nothing else. Truly an angel. Bokuto telepathically sends Freckles a message promising to make all his dreams come true as he grabs onto Tsukishima’s elbow and drags him into the hallway before he can change his mind.

“Was I not meant to bring my blanket? Or pillow?” Tsukishima being a little taller than Bokuto, with the longest legs in the world, is one of the best things about him, Bokuto decides, feeling giddy that no matter how huge he makes his strides Tsukishima matches him. He’d like to race Tsukishima for real one day.

“Nah, we’ll share mine!” Washio had been the one to point out that mathematically speaking it might be difficult to make enough space in Fukurodani’s room for all of their teams. However two or three people sitting on one futon might work and save space. It was Sarukui who had designed the first little tent, plopping two futons over a third like a roof and padding the inside with pillows and blankets. Komi and Konoha had been so enthusiastic, bundling themselves either side of Sarukui and commending his interior design that Washio and Onaga had had no choice but to make their own, borrowing Bokuto’s futon. That didn’t matter much though as Kuroo had turned up with all of his teams futons and they’d made some more, being sure to make a huge one with extra pillows so that all the managers could sit together.

“We can probably get two to four in each one,” Kuroo had told him, after stuffing Lev, Yamamoto, Inuoka and Shibayama into a futon tent and finding it difficult to fit in himself. “Maybe five if we replace Lev with a libero or two.”

“So six is impossible?” Maybe they could make another big one. It was their last night and Bokuto wanted to spend it with Kuroo, Akaashi, Tsukishima, Sawamura and Suga, triple date-style. They might not ever get a real chance to do so. Kuroo seemed to catch onto his meaning, scrambling up from where he was still sprawled across Lev and cuffing his chin fondly.

“With your and Sawamura’s arms I’d say yes, a little impossible. But we can make it work!”

“How?” Bokuto had made sure to flutter his eyelashes because usually that’s Kuroo’s biggest weakness. But this time Kuroo had just barked a laugh, using his hands to cover up Bokuto’s eyes.

“We can rotate the futon maybe? Our roof will be a little lower than everyone else’s, but it will still work… Just so long as Sawamura and I are right on the end. So we don’t disturb you guys when we go to the toilet.” When he’d pulled his hands away it was for Bokuto to be greeted with one of the reddest faces he’d ever seen.

“Ohoho? Pervert Captain strikes again!” He’d decided to run and collect Tsukishima after springing into the hallway to escape Kuroo’s pouncing. He’d been thinking about going to get him since the first futon tent had been pitched anyway; he really was hoping to get a photo of him wearing his flowers. And now here they were, Tsukishima’s arm warm where he was holding it.

“Tsukishima-kun,” Akaashi nods as Bokuto drags him over to the end of the room, where they’d decided their tent was going to go. Kuroo was busying himself with Kenma, making sure he was comfortable and happy in his tent. It was closest to the door and Bokuto couldn’t help but suspect he’d arranged it that way so that if he or Sawamura accidentally disturbed it as they went passed it wouldn’t matter; Kenma and Hinata already knew and Inuoka and Shibayama were too innocent to think a joint toilet break would be anything other than a coincidence. Bokuto had made sure to send him all of the most disgusted glares he knew, but secretly he was a little jealous. Nothing Bokuto had said, and no amount of kicks to his shins from Yaku, had been able to wipe his blissed-out smile from his face.

“Maybe Sawamura drugged him.” Akaashi and Tsukishima both follow his line of sight, where Kuroo is physically dragging Yaku and squashing him in the middle of Lev and Kai. Tsukishima snorts.

“More like he drugged Sawamura.”

“He is good at chemistry,” Akaashi adds, as if he’s seeing merit to Tsukishima’s way of thinking, “he’d know exactly what kind of chemicals to administer and in what dosages.”

“But then he’d have done that from the very start! Instead of pining all over the place!”

“Who was pining?” Bokuto jumps around, fearing that Sawamura is with Sugawara and breathing a sigh of relief when only Sugawara’s curious gaze blinks back at him. It looks like he’s arrived with only Azumane, Kageyama and Freckles, who have already started constructing their own tent next to Kenma’s.

“Ah! Everyone probably!” Bokuto makes sure to grin his widest as Komi had told him once that people are more likely to believe lies if they’re told with a smile.

“Of course,” Sugawara agrees instantly, smiling sweetly as he looks behind Bokuto to where Tsukishima is folding himself carefully under a blanket. “Anyway, we’re a man down and our second years are involved in some kind of pep-rally for Ennoshita-kun that I don’t think he’s aware he’s part of, so I was wondering if I could get a helping hand? One with lots of muscle.”

“Ohoho! Say no more Suga-san!” It wouldn’t be the first time someone had needed the help of his biceps; Bokuto flexes to show he understands completely. Sugawara smiles even wider, giggling a little.

“Oh? Sorry, I was actually thinking of Akaashi-kun.” He winks. At who Bokuto isn’t sure, but before his brain can catch up with the reality of the situation, Akaashi is patting him gently on the back and gladly offering up his help. “It would be inconsiderate of you to abandon Tsukki-kun after dragging him over early too, don’t you think?”

“Ah! Tsukki!” Bokuto whirls back round to where Tsukishima is comfortably stuffing his head into a pillow.

“I’m sure I’d survive,” he mumbles, his voice muffled by the pillow.

“You’re _sure_ , huh?” And Bokuto doesn’t spare a second glance for Sugawara and Akaashi as they leave the room, deciding that it would definitely be inconsiderate of him not to bundle himself on top of Tsukishima and make sure he’s all cosy and warm. Blowing raspberries on the exposed skin at the back of his neck is mostly just for Bokuto’s own pleasure though. Tsukishima growls underneath him, pushing his arms out to roll them over and glaring at Bokuto as he flops onto his chest. A red-faced Tsukishima on top of him isn’t something Bokuto can find it in himself to complain about.

“Idiot.” But Tsukishima’s smiling a little himself, that strange one he gets at the corner of his mouth sometimes as if he’s trying to hold it in. Bokuto hears rather than sees the arrival of Sawamura and Hinata, recognising the deep rumble and excited chattering of their voices. He watches as Tsukishima’s eyes scan the room, always self-aware, always self-conscious, as he pushes off of Bokuto and tucks himself back under the blanket next to him.

“Ney, Tsukki.” Tsukishima rolls his head onto to his pillow to stare at Bokuto’s face, his glasses propped up a little disorderly, and Bokuto had never really planned on trying for a second-confession so soon after his interrupted first one, but patience has never been his strong point and it’s possible he’ll never be presented with another perfect moment like this. “Do you want what they have?” Bokuto nods his head in the direction of Kuroo’s cackle. He wants it. He wants it with Tsukishima. But he also only wants it with a Tsukishima that wants it. And he’s afraid that someone as amazing as Tsukishima wouldn’t want that type of thing with someone like him. Tsukishima’s eyes widen, just a bit, a hum rumbling in the back of his throat.

“Maybe.” Bokuto’s heart stammers. At least it’s not a no. “I’m not sure.” _Not sure_. Bokuto’s used to that; people are often _not sure_ when it comes to Bokuto. _Not sure_ if he’s the type of person who will mesh well with a team, _not sure_ if he has the concentration it takes to be the Captain of a powerhouse, _not sure_ what to make of him in general. But for some reason it stings in a different way coming from Tsukishima.

“Oh.” He rolls back to staring at the futon ceiling. “I don’t think I can change.” Bokuto wonders if he should be sorry about that. Lots of people, all of his life, have tried to make him change, and a couple of times he’s even wished he could change too. But it’s impossible. He only ever lasts an hour or two before something around him causes him to explode in excitement, his energy vibrating out of him louder than ever. But maybe if it means he can look as warm and soft as Kuroo he can try to change for Tsukishima. A wet finger digs into his ear, causing him to screech as he reels away, sitting himself up.

“Idiot!” Tsukishima snorts, wiping his finger across Bokuto’s pillow. “It’s not you I’m unsure about.”

“ _Oh_.” Tsukishima rolls his eyes, focusing his attention to where Narita and Kinoshita have just arrived and are propping up their futons to match the one he’s sat in, making their tent a little larger.

“I meant I’m not sure if I can have what they have.”

“ _Tsukki!_ ” That admission stings him more than anything else and yet he feels weirdly close to Tsukishima. It’s like they come from similar places. “What if I wanted to give it to you?” Tsukishima looks at him then, a real smile flittering across his face. It’s just for a second but Bokuto thinks he’d work his hardest every day if it meant he got to see it again.

“Maybe we could just be friends who kiss.” It’s not a question which means he’s probably thought over this at least a little. Bokuto frowns. He’s never thought about this possibility at all. “It might be better. We live far away.”

“Kuroo and Sawamura live far away!”

“But they’re the same age. They can go on together. Maybe next year, when you’re at university…” he swallows visibly. “There are a lot of people you’ve yet to meet.”

“But I’ve already met all the best people!” It’s not a lie. Even if he does meet new awesome people later on, those people weren’t his first friends; those people aren’t here now, so they’ll be the best in a different way. “And Kenma-san is older!”

“I don’t want us to end up hurt.” Tsukishima chews on his lip, eyebrows furrowed together, and just the fact that he’s clearly confused is enough to spur Bokuto on. “I think maybe that’s what Akaashi-san and Suga-san are. Friends who kiss.”

“I don’t want that. I don’t want that at all.” Bokuto hunches back down so he’s eye-level to Tsukishima. “I already like you this much, after two kisses! So after ten kisses, I’ll like you _more_. After twenty, even more! After one hundred kisses! Imagine it Tsukki! After one hundred kisses _imagine_ how much I'll like you! Too much! And just this much is already hurting–” Tsukishima’s hand reaches out to cover his mouth.

“Shut up. You’re so embarrassing.” Bokuto tries to reason around the hand over his mouth but Tsukishima just increases the pressure, narrowing his eyes at him. “I’m still not sure.” He nods, taking his hand away and wiping that across Bokuto’s pillow too. Maybe other people in Tsukishima’s life accept that Tsukishima has the final say on everything, but Bokuto is not other people.

“Okay. Fine.” He nods, smiling at the way Tsukishima’s eyes widen. “When we win nationals you’ll want to be my boyfriend. Ace of the best team in the country. I’ll be impossible to resist.” He waggles his eyebrows, but Tsukishima must see that he’s mostly serious. More than anything Bokuto knows that no one would be a better boyfriend to Tsukishima.

“ _If_ you win nationals. What if we beat you?”

“You’ve never beaten us!” Tsukishima slaps at his face again. “Okay, okay, if _you_ guys beat us I’ll never ask to be your boyfriend again.” Bokuto wrestles his hand out from under his body. “But if _we_ win nationals, you have to ask me to be my boyfriend.”

“What happens if you beat us, but then lose nationals?” Tsukishima eyes flicker to Bokuto’s outstretched hand warily.

“Then I ask you to be my boyfriend.” Bokuto thought that much was obvious. Tsukishima rolls his eyes and for a second Bokuto thinks he’s going to dismiss the idea as stupid, but then his hand is being gently grasped. They shake slowly, Bokuto never looking away from Tsukishima’s face.

“Deal.”

“And until then no more kisses!” Tsukishima’s hand snaps away, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“No deal.” Bokuto laughs so loudly Kuroo is prompted into dragging Sawamura over to them and flopping down on Bokuto’s other side, slapping him on the back and demanding to be let in on the joke. Bokuto doesn’t care at all; secretly he was hoping that would be Tsukishima’s answer.

* * * *

By the time they arrive at Fukurodani’s Fright Night, the lights have already been switched off and everyone is piled under futon forts that look a little like books opened with their spines facing the ceiling to Ennoshita. Faces peer out of the ends of the forts, blinking a little creepily under mobile phone torches and beside him Yamamoto shudders, shifting noticeably closer and clutching onto the bottom of Ennoshita’s top.

“I’ll protect you if you’re scared,” he whispers ferociously, breath warm against Ennoshita’s cheek. Probably Ennoshita would protect him too, only he’s not about to say so.

“Oi, oi!” Yamamoto yelps at the hand that’s shot out of nowhere to grab around his ankle, tugging Ennoshita by the hold he has on his top so that he’s shielded behind Yamamoto.

“Tora!” Tanaka wails, flopping heavily onto Noya’s back. “To think you’d sacrifice yourself to save our dearest Chikara! How beautiful! How _tragic_!” He throws a hand across his forehead dramatically as Noya drags Yamamoto’s foot closer to them, grinning manically.

“You’re a hero worthy of our fair maiden’s hand.” Noya agrees morosely, only prying his hand away from Yamamoto’s ankle when Yamamoto wriggles his toes around. “But it is a shame that your sacrifice will be for nought.” A deep chuckle rumbles out of the back of his throat.

“He’s taking tonight very seriously,” Tanaka stage-whispers up at them, side-eying Noya warily, “it’s hard to tell if I’m terrified or aroused.”

“Oh?” Noya twists his head to look at Tanaka, tongue flicking out of his mouth like a lizard. “It’s _hard_ is it?” As the two of them splutter into each other’s shoulders, giggling helplessly, Yamamoto looks apologetically at Ennoshita.

“We can sit somewhere else if you want. Kenma-san said he’d be with Hinata and the Catdogs.”

“What?” Kinoshita’s head appears from behind Tanaka and Noya, frown evident even in the near darkness. “No way, you can’t abandon us with them!”

“We saved you a spot and everything.” Narita adds, blinking up at them with wide eyes. “It would be rude of you to ditch us Chikara.”

“Here’s fine.” It makes sense that with so many of them piled into one room people would be sharing futon forts and space, so Ennoshita doesn’t know why he’d assumed it would be just him and Yamamoto. And he can’t work out the weird churning at the pit of his stomach upon finding out it won’t be just the two of them. Yamamoto’s eyes flit across Ennoshita’s face for a brief moment before he nods satisfied.

“In that case,” he throws down his two pillows on top of Tanaka and Noya, crawling over them and rolling them even more into Narita and Kinoshita. He wrestles one of the pillows onto the clear section he’s just made, looking up at Ennoshita and patting it encouragingly.

“Bro,” Noya squeaks from where he’s being flattened between Yamamoto’s other pillow, shoulder and into Tanaka’s side, “this is my new favourite way to die. Engrave into my headstone: here lies Nishinoya Yuu, crushed to death by the bara-arms of two aces.”

“If you Spice Girls could kindly shut-up,” Kuroo’s voice is accompanied by the blinding light of his phone as he flicks it over each of their faces in turn, “we’re trying to start.”

“Spice Girls?” Tanaka sounds more flattered than offended. “I must be Sporty Spice!”

“Pfft!” Narita splutters, pushing at Tanaka’s face with the heel of his palm. “As if! You’re Scary Spice!”

“Eh? How’d you work that out?”

“Well I just looked at your face…”

“You know you guys look kinda similar,” Kinoshita points out kindly, "same hair style and stuff.”

“Yeah! Yeah!” Tanaka agrees, thumping Kinoshita on the back. “ _You’re_ Scary Spice! I’m Sporty since I’m the ace! Noya-san is Ginger Spice–”

“Wait! Why am I Ginger Spice?” Noya’s head pops out from under Yamamoto’s arm, ginger streak of hair falling in front of his eyes. Tanaka stares at him disbelievingly, and Ennoshita uses their distraction to curl himself into Yamamoto’s other side, flopping the blanket on the end over himself.

“Well, your hair.” Tanaka points out at last, tugging on Noya’s fringe.

“You’re more Ginger than I am! You get naked all the time! I’m obviously Sporty Spice!”

“Noya-san, I think you’re more like Baby Spice, all small and cute,” Narita pokes his tongue out at Noya over the back of Tanaka; Ennoshita gets the feeling he’s only riling Noya up because no one argued against him being Scary Spice.

“ _I’m_ Sporty Spice!” Noya grits back, wriggling up Tanaka’s back to slap at Narita’s face.

“Tanaka should be Baby Spice,” Yamamoto’s already giggling before he can finish his sentence, “he’s the youngest one.”

“Ah.” Tanaka’s face flushes red. Noya abandons his fight with Narita to cling around his neck.

“Yes! And he’s the biggest babe too!” He plants sloppy kisses along the back of Tanaka’s head.

“What? So I’m just _left_ with Ginger Spice?” Kinoshita mutters from his side of the row.

“You could always be Posh,” Ennoshita throws at him from his end. All four of them turn to stare at him. “What? No one is Posh Spice yet.”

“Chikara, it’s you,” Tanaka tells him as if he’s explaining something to a particularly small child. “You’re Posh Spice.”

“Huh? Why me? Kinoshita can be Posh Spice. Or even Yamamoto.” Yamamoto grins, finally leaning up from Noya slightly.

“Nah, I’m David Beckham.” Ennoshita drops his head into his pillow, wondering if the room is dark enough to hide his blush.

“Pickled ginger is like your favourite thing anyway, I don’t see why you wouldn’t be Ginger Spice.” He hears Narita whisper at Kinoshita. “My mum always says you are what you eat.”

“Spice Girls.” This time it’s not Kuroo’s voice that accompanies the flashing light but Sawamura’s. Narita snaps his mouth shut immediately, shrinking down with Kinoshita at their side of the futon. Noya remains on top of Tanaka’s back, hiding behind his head, but shoves Yamamoto over as he’s the only one still not lying down. Yamamoto lands on top of Ennoshita with a small smack, one of his hands awkwardly splayed out on his–

“ _He touched the butt._ ” Noya whispers in a tiny awed voice, hiding his snorts into the back of Tanaka’s t-shirt.

“Sorry.” Yamamoto’s face burns red as he removes his hand from where he’d essentially just spanked Ennoshita. He burrows himself under Ennoshita’s blanket, tucking them in like they’re a joint burrito and turns his attention to where Bokuto is shining a torch under his chin. Ennoshita doesn’t know what makes him brave enough to do it, but one second he’s staring at the side of Yamamoto's face and the next it’s as if his hand has moved on its own, squeezing Yamamoto’s bum lightly. The dark room and blanket are the perfect cover for his action, but don’t do much to hide Yamamoto’s strangled yelp.

“Now we’re even.” He says simply, tucking his hands under his pillow so he can keep better control of them. It will be even harder now that he knows how nice Yamamoto feels under his fingers.

* * * *

“Welcome one and all to Fukurodani’s Fright Night!” Bokuto booms out, cackling in what he must suppose is an evil way as he scans everyone’s faces poking out of their futon tents and turns eagerly towards them. It takes all of Kuroo’s self-control not to laugh. “As is tradition, the current Captain will begin, and then we’ll go round, taking turns, one volunteer from each team. The person with the scariest story will be crowned Annual Scaremeister!” If Kuroo hadn’t been there when Bokuto was inventing the rules for this fake tradition, and if he didn’t know he’d stolen the title of Annual Scaremeister from The Grinch (altering Holiday Cheermeister to fit his needs) he might have been fooled into thinking this was a real event and not some elaborately hatched plan to get to see Tsukishima scared.

“What does the Annual Scaremeister get?” Suga perks up.

“Glory and Honour for your team.” Bokuto cackles again before lowering his voice. “Okay, so, one night I was driving in my car.”

“You have a car?” Komi shouts, clearly confused.

“You can drive?” Konoha adds, clearly not-confused if his laugh is anything to go by.

“Yes,” Bokuto nods once, firmly, not put out in the least. “A small yellow one, with owl bumper stickers on the back.”

“And pick fluffy dice hanging from the mirror! I got you those as a present.” Kuroo’s self-control could only last so long.

“Yes, yes, the pink fluffy dice too. So one night, I go driving.”

“Why were you driving at night? _It’s dangerous!_ ” The fact that Azumane is completely serious and already scared makes it ten times funnier to Kuroo. Sawamura pinches the soft skin under his arm until he manages to get his snorting under control.

“My sister had just phoned from the hospital to say she was having a baby, my first niece!”

“ _Wah_! You’re the best brother! And uncle!” If it had been anyone else who had interrupted him again, Kuroo imagines they’d be receiving a flying phone to the face, but Bokuto smiles warmly at Hinata, chest puffing out a little.

“Of course I am!” The light under his chin flickers erratically as he waves his hand around. “So there I was, driving at night in my little yellow car with the owl bumper stickers on it and pink fluffy dice hanging from the mirror, a present from Kitty Cat, on my way to see my sister about to give birth.” He takes in a deep breath. “I was driving down a back-road when my car broke down.”

“A back-road? _In Tokyo_?” Bokuto stares at Sarukui down the barrel of light he shines in his eyes.

“Yes. A back-road in Tokyo. They exist!” He flicks the light back under his chin. “For a little while I was panicking, thinking I was going to be stuck there until morning, but then a caravan pulled up behind me. A nice-looking, elderly couple got out of the front and came up to my car. I rolled down my window, explained that I had broken down and had been on my way to the hospital to see my sister. _We can give you a ride_ , the old man said. And it was important I see my sister no matter what, so I agreed, locking my car and climbing up into their caravan.”

“No,” Azumane whines, covering his hands over his ears. “ _Never_ get in a car with strangers.”

“You scared yet?” Kuroo whispers at Sawamura, grinning at the glare Sawamura sends him. “Don’t look at me like that; the crows must get their fear from somewhere.” He gestures with his eyes to where Yamaguchi’s face has drained of colour next to Azumane, to the door where Hinata is clinging onto Kenma, equal parts protecting him and for protection, then to the manager's tent where the little blonde girl is plastered to their other manager’s side. Sawamura frowns.

“Some of your cats don’t seem to be holding up any better.” He nods at Lev burrowing into his pillow like an ostrich and to the other side of Kenma where Inuoka is patting Shibayama’s quivering head.

“Will you pat my head if I start to vibrate?” He whispers even quieter, shuffling towards him so that his breath falls right across Sawamura’s ear. Sawamura shifts onto his side slightly, staring at Kuroo in shock.

“ _Really_?” He groans, head-butting Kuroo softly, “this is where you’ve decided to whip out your innuendos?”

“Whip out?” Sawamura head-butts him a little harder this time, so Kuroo takes it as his victory and focuses back on Bokuto.

“So the caravan starts moving. The road is a little bumpier than I remember but I think it might just be because my car drives smoother, right? Only all the bumping was really making me need to pee, so after about ten minutes I ask if it’s okay if I can use their bathroom. What’s the point of having a caravan if there’s no toilet on board, right? The old woman turned away from the wheel to tell me of course, I just have to promise not to disturb her son or husband as they’re sleeping in their rooms. I’d already promised that though, thought it was a little weird that she was repeating herself. But old people can be forgetful, so I just smiled and promised not to disturb them. So I made my way down the caravan. I had to go a little slow, because of the bumpy road, right? I peed, but then as I’m washing my hands I start to hear this kind of scratching sound, like nails against a door.” Bokuto pauses to scratch his own nails along the floor.

“Are you scared now?” Sawamura’s closer than before, his shoulder a solid weight against Kuroo’s. Kuroo’s mostly not scared because he was there when Bokuto looked up this story on his phone earlier, but he grabs Sawamura’s hand anyway.

“Terrified.” He gives Sawamura’s hand a squeeze, smiling happily when Sawamura squeezes back, snickering slightly at his side.

“I think maybe there’s a loose screw or a mouse somewhere and look around a bit.”

“Because you’re both an excellent handy-man _and_ a professional mouse catcher?” Tsukishima’s drawl is as sarcastic as ever. Bokuto grins down at him.

“Of course! What do you expect from Captain of the owls? I figured out pretty quickly that the scratching is coming from outside the bathroom and when I open the door it’s obvious it’s coming from the door opposite. The little boy’s door. I think it’s really weird, because he was meant to be sleeping and I don’t really know why I did it, but I bent down and looked through the key-hole. I couldn’t see much of anything, just a deep, dark red. After a few seconds it sort of blinks black, but then the red is there again. Probably we drove through a tunnel. It’s really weird. And the scratching didn’t stop, only got louder and louder.” Bokuto’s own fingers scratch faster at the floor. Azumane lets out a wail. “And then… the door-knob started to rattle.” Even Kuroo jumps when the door-knob to the room rattles suddenly. Lev slaps at Yaku’s shins, on the brink of tears.

“Sorry.” Yaku doesn’t look the least bit apologetic as he hunkers back down into his futon tent, grinning at Kuroo in the way Kuroo knows means he saw him jump. Sawamura’s hand slips out of his to curl tightly around his waist, smirk flirting across his lips.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

“I hate you both.” He should have known Sawamura would join forces with Yaku against him at some point; it was only a matter of time. Sawamura’s fingers pinch at the skin of his hip.

“ _So_ ,” Bokuto’s voice is a lot deeper and slower than Kuroo remembers, his head hunkering closer to the floor when Kuroo’s sure he started this tale sat cross-legged. “I thought maybe this kid needs to pee too or something and he’s just struggling to open the door. And I leant out, wrapping my hand around the knob.” Kuroo can’t be sure but he thinks he hears Tsukishima snort along with the giggles erupting from Tanaka and Nishinoya. “ **WHAT ARE YOU DOING?** ” Bokuto roars into the room, throwing his arms out wide as he bolts upright.

“Shit.” Sawamura pulls Kuroo flush against his chest, cursing under his breath, Lev and the little blonde manager let out full blown screams, Azumane face-plants into his pillow, Yamaguchi face-planting onto his back as Kageyama attemps to pat them both awkwardly, Shibayama lets out a strange strangled sound, Hinata’s head has disappeared under his blanket and if Kuroo’s not mistaken he thinks he sees Yamamoto clutching onto Ennoshita.

“The old man had appeared behind me from nowhere!” Bokuto looks completely satisfied with himself, even laughing a little when Konoha pretends to be scared. “ _We told you, not to disturb our son_ , he said, his hand gripping onto my arm. He walked me forcefully back to the front of the caravan, planted me in my seat. And then he just returned to bed! Just like that! We ride the rest of the way in silence, pulling up at the hospital maybe two minutes later. I’m kinda freaked out, right? But these people just helped me out massively, so I make sure to thank them a lot, offer to give the old lady some money for petrol. As I’m stepping down she turned to me, _sorry about him_ ¸, she said in a quiet voice, looking over her shoulder at their bedroom door. _The truth is: our son killed himself years ago in that very room. Nobody goes in there anymore_. She must have seen my confusion on my face and I told her that I’d heard some scratching on the other side, had seen an empty red room and she blinked at me with blank eyes. _Our son’s room is blue_ , she said, _but he killed himself by digging his eyes out with two spoons. There was blood everywhere, crying down his face. And he never left that room_.” Bokuto takes in a deep breath, looking around the room expectantly.

“What?” Snaps Tsukishima. “So they just _let_ you go, just like that? After telling you their secret?”

“I was already basically out of the door! I just ran away!”

“A better ending would be if they had murdered him,” Tsukishima continues, ignoring Hinata’s yelp of pain, “if they had dug his eyes out with spoons, and then your punishment for peeking was the same.”

“Maybe they did!” Bokuto flops down onto his front, leaning on his elbows. “Maybe these eyes are fake, glass balls, shielding the horror behind. Maybe I’m a ghost!”

“Maybe I’m reporting Fukurodani for using ghosts on their team,” Sugawara trills happily, “you’ll get disqualified. Such a shame.”

“Ack! Suga-san!” Bokuto clamps his hands over Tsukishima’s ears, leaning over him and whispering quickly. “I’m not really a ghost! Akaashi, tell him I’m not really a ghost.”

“Bokuto-san is not really a ghost,” Akaashi repeats solemnly, smiling a little when it causes Sugawara to giggle unabashedly. Bokuto sets Tsukishima’s ears free, glancing happily around the room.

“I can’t believe that was your scariest story,” Tsukishima mutters, “only idiots would be scared after that.” Kuroo rolls in Sawamura’s embrace, patting his thudding heart with one hand.

“I think you just got called an idiot.” Sawamura doesn’t loosen his hold.

“Shut up, you jumped too.”

“He was right next to me! I was startled.”

“Startled is just a fancy word for scared,” Sawamura points out, eyeing Kuroo’s hand as it skips from his thudding heart up to his shoulders. Kuroo trails down his arm, feeling out the shape of Sawamura’s biceps appreciatively.

“How could I be scared when I know these guns are here to protect me?” Sawamura snorts in his face.

“ _Well_?” Bokuto tuts, poking Tsukishima’s glasses back up his nose. “Can _you_ do better then? It is someone else’s turn!”

“Actually!” Shirofuku waves a hand at Bokuto. “I think Kiyoko-chan has a really good story!” She smiles sweetly, gesturing at Karasuno’s manager.

“Shimizu-senpai!” Tanaka and Nishinoya wail, wiping dramatically at the corner of their eyes. Even Hinata pokes his head back out from under his blanket. Shimizu clears her throat gently.

“This is the story,” she glances at Shirofuku, who nods encouragingly. “This is the story of how I was murdered in my last life.” Hinata’s head promptly disappears again.

* * ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) * *

Sawamura’s chin digs into the top of Kuroo’s head a little too hard for it to really count as nuzzling.

“You’re still awake right?” Kuroo doesn’t respond, staring at the back of Bokuto’s head as it moves in time with his gentle snores. Sawamura’s arms twitch where they’re wrapped around his chest, one skittering up to tickle under his armpit.

“Shh,” Kuroo hisses quietly, grabbing onto Sawamura’s hand to stop him in his tracks. “I’m trying to savour the moment.”

“What moment?” Sawamura shifts closer, leaning over the top of Kuroo’s head to look at the back of Bokuto’s head too.

“My boyfriend is spooning me for the very first time.” Kuroo sighs, wiggling back into Sawamura’s embrace. He really does have the best chest. Sawamura settles back onto him, hands slowly moving in soft, warm strokes across Kuroo’s front. He sighs deeply, shifting his hips into Kuroo’s.

“You’re right, this is perfect. Goodnight, Kitty Cat.”

“You fight dirty,” Kuroo notes, impressed by how all it takes for his boner to spring to life these days is Sawamura’s deep voice in his ear and a finger dipping into his belly button.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sawamura kisses the top of his head, smiling into his hair.

“Ah-huh,” Kuroo is aware that maybe everyone isn’t as deep a sleeper as Bokuto, so instead of grabbing Sawamura’s hand and showing him the effect he’s having on him like he wants to do, he pushes himself out of Sawamura’s arms. “I just need the toilet; I’ll be back in a minute.” He flicks his eyes deliberately down at the front of his pyjama shorts before crawling out of their futon tent and creeping towards the door.

“And you say I fight dirty?” Sawamura hisses at his back. Kuroo pauses, staring over his shoulder at Sawamura still curled on his side, as if spooning Kuroo’s shadow.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” By the time he’s navigated his way around the futons and arms sprawled out of them Sawamura is already following him, hand heavy on his lower back. Kuroo quirks his eyebrow at him as he opens the door just enough to slither through.

“Maybe I need the toilet too.” Kuroo was feeling giddy enough without being confronted with Sawamura’s pout so close. He grabs at his free hand, yanking him into the hallway and pulling the door softly closed behind them. Laughter echoes slightly from one end of the hallway and Kuroo knows that their coaches are further away than they sound, their drunken laughs only amplified due to the silence, but it shakes him out of gawking at Sawamura, propels him into motion dragging Sawamura in the opposite direction of their voices, towards Nekoma’s room.

“I want to try something.” Sawamura’s hand twitches in his and it boosts Kuroo’s confidence a little to know just saying that much has excited him somewhat.

“Oh?” Nekoma’s door clicks softly behind them, cutting off the laughter and making Kuroo suddenly aware of how heavy he’s breathing. Sawamura looks passed him at Kuroo’s futon still made out in his room, quirking his head questioningly up at him.

“Well!” Kuroo feels his blood rushing to his face, but that’s fine, it’s dark and Sawamura’s seen him more flustered by now anyway. “I didn’t want us to be on the floor!” He chews on his lip, staring down at the bed and wondering if it gives off the wrong impression. He doesn’t want to have sex. Not so soon. And definitely not at Shinzen’s training camp. Although Sugawara would probably be impressed. He’s so pre-occupied with his thoughts that it doesn’t register that Sawamura’s moved until his hands cup his face, thumbs skittering along his jaw as he tugs Kuroo down to his height.

Kissing Sawamura is strange, because every time Kuroo expects it to be like the last time, but every time it’s different and new. Kuroo’s never been kissed like this before, never had Sawamura growling and insistent as he walks backwards into Kuroo, his teeth tugging at his bottom lip until Kuroo’s mouth opens to let his tongue slide in. Every time their lips meet Sawamura manages to steal his breath in a new way. Kuroo leans down, matching Sawamura’s hunger and intensity with every stroke of his tongue, sucking against Sawamura’s and licking the underside. He’s never done it before, but the surprised groan that’s dragged from the back of Sawamura’s throat makes him wonder why he hasn’t. He should have been doing this every day. Sawamura’s ankle hooks behind his, jerking Kuroo’s foot forwards and suddenly they’re tumbling down, Kuroo landing with a thud on his back. Their mouths disconnected during the fall and Kuroo wonders for a split-second who it is he hears gasping only to realise it’s him, biting down sharply on his tongue to silence himself.

“Don’t.” Sawamura’s voice is gentle at his neck, his fingers crawling under Kuroo’s top. “I want to hear you.”

“It’s embarrassing.” Sawamura pauses, shifting his weight on top of Kuroo so he’s straddled across his lap.

“Do you think I sound embarrassing?” His hands roam further up Kuroo’s chest, teasing with how close they wander to his nipples.

“No.” Kuroo arches into his touch, squeezing his eyes closed as he shakes his head. “You always sound hot.” Even when he’s not trying to, which is completely unfair, Kuroo thinks. No one’s voice should have that power. Sawamura leans over, nose brushing against Kuroo’s as his fingers lightly glide across his nipples. Enough contact for Kuroo to shiver, but not nearly as much as he wants.

“Exactly. You always sound hot.” His tongue skims over Kuroo’s lips, leaving him open-mouthed and whining as Sawamura kisses the soft skin of his neck and drags his ear lobe into his mouth. “I want to hear you.” His voice sounds wet and needy in Kuroo’s ear, deeper than he’s ever heard it before and Kuroo bucks involuntarily up into Sawamura, his hands springing from where they were clamped uselessly into the sheets to Sawamura’s sides. A whine he didn’t know he was capable of making tears from his throat when Sawamura suddenly rolls a nipple between his fingers. “Hot.” And then Sawamura’s tongue is licking the inside of his ear and Kuroo thinks he might combust his skin feels so hot.

“ _Sawamura_ ,” Kuroo tugs at the back of Sawamura’s top. Last night he didn’t have to overcome this hurdle because Sawamura had taken his own clothes off. Sawamura’s tongue drags out of his ear slowly, apparently in no hurry to be anywhere else. When he finally leans away he’s smiling down at Kuroo, soft chuckles tumbling over the curve of his lips, the front of his hair mussed up. He hooks his thumbs under the hem of his top, rolling out of it slowly in the single sexiest act Kuroo has ever witnessed. His eyes roam over each new segment of skin greedily, hands chasing the path they map out. He slows to brush a thumb over Sawamura’s nipple, wondering if it will cause Sawamura to whine too. He grunts instead, hips stuttering down into Kuroo’s. Their lengths brush against each other through their pyjamas and Kuroo can’t tell if it’s him or Sawamura who sucks in a ragged breath. Maybe it's both of them. Sawamura flops forwards, panting heavily into Kuroo’s chest, hands hot on his hips.

“You too.” His voice cracks and for the first time Kuroo wonders how long he was lying in Fukurodani’s room, waiting for everyone to fall asleep so he could touch Kuroo. Wonders if maybe Sawamura’s been just as impatient to be alone with him as Kuroo has all day. Wonders if maybe he affects Sawamura as much as he affects him. He leans on his elbows, pushing them both up just enough that he can tear his top up over his head and fling it at his side. Sawamura’s hands are back on him in an instant, one wrapped around the dip of his hip as his other tugs sharply on his nipple, a breathless laugh escaping from him when Kuroo whines again.

“Sawa–” Sawamura drinks up the end of his name, his tongue moving inside Kuroo’s mouth much slower than their last kiss, tracing a row of teeth, humming satisfied into his lips. Kuroo’s hands smooth over Sawamura’s chest, curving down his back until they come to rest just above the waistband of Sawamura’s pyjamas shorts. His fingers linger there, toying with the elastic of the shorts until Sawamura pulls back from him to catch his breath.

Kuroo’s hands descend all at once, cupping Sawamura’s butt and dragging him closer. His knees buckle, so Kuroo runs his hands down the length of his legs, taking his time to outline his every curve and muscle as he tucks Sawamura’s ankles around his lower back. He makes his return journey even slower, hands pausing to stroke behind Sawamura’s knees and to squeeze at his inner thigh. Kuroo had sort of imagined that Sawamura’s legs would feel rock hard from all that muscle, but they’re surprisingly soft, even the hairs that brush under his fingers. He skims a hand over the top of Sawamura’s shorts, stroking the trail of hair that’s sneaking up towards his belly button with his thumb. That’s soft too. His eyes land back on Sawamura’s and he’s not surprised this time to find that he’s soft here too, gazing at Kuroo so fondly that Kuroo can feel the whine building at the back of his throat.

“ _Sawamura_.”

“I think,” Sawamura pauses, swallowing slowly as his tongue wets his lip. “I think we’re a little passed that, don’t you?” Kuroo blinks, staring at the blush creeping across Sawamura’s cheeks.

“Sawamura?”

“Please,” his hand ghosts up to catch his jaw, thumb tracing his lower lip, “call me Daichi.” His eyes drop away from Kuroo’s face. “I mean, if you want to.” Kuroo brings his own hand up to cover Sawamura’s, pulling it forwards an inch so he can plant a kiss on the palm of his hand.

“Daichi.” Even his name sounds soft.

“Ah.” Sawamura’s face erupts, completely red all at once, his eyes snapping back to Kuroo’s and Kuroo wants to kiss him, badly wants to kiss him, but he can read the question painted in Sawamura’s eyes as clear as day.

“You too.” He echoes Sawamura’s words from earlier, because they’ve always taken turns like this.

“Tetsurou.” Kuroo knows his face is as red as Sawamura’s, but he doesn’t care at all. He barks a happy laugh, confused about why such a small thing makes his insides feel flooded with warmth. He catches Sawamura’s mouth with his own, just for a moment, for a small press of their lips. Sometimes, he supposes, the small things are everything. Sawamura coughs, adjusting his weight a little and staring at their laps.

“You said you wanted to try something?”

“You really are a lot more eager than you let on, huh?” Sawamura snorts, flicking Kuroo’s shoulder.

“No need to sound so smug about it.” Kuroo hums; he doesn’t agree at all. He brings his hands back to rest on the waistband of Sawamura’s shorts, fingers dipping below a little further this time.

“So, Suga-san told me about this thing.”

“Wait.” Sawamura forces an arm length of space between their chests. “You went to _Suga_ for advice?” Kuroo lets out a huff of air.

“Not intentionally! He overheard me asking Yakkun.” Sawamura lets out a pained groan, dragging Kuroo back to himself just so he can drop his forehead on his shoulder.

“Just so we’re clear, it’s only Suga and Yaku who knew about this before me, right?”

“Right.” Kuroo imagines Akaashi knows too, and Bokuto half-knows, but it’s not necessary for Sawamura to know that.

“Okay,” Sawamura brings his head back to level with Kuroo’s, “lay it on me.”

“Well,” Kuroo squeezes his eyes closed, a little embarrassed that he’s going to say it out loud. “You sit on my lap, just like this,” he pats blindly at Sawamura’s thighs, thrilled with himself for getting them into position so sneakily, “and then we wrap both our hands around both our… you know, _together_?”

“Ah-huh,” Kuroo can detect the laugh on the tip of Sawamura’s tongue so he scrunches his eyes up even more.

“We don’t have to.” His eyes snap open when he feels the tug on his pyjamas shorts, a moan rushing out from his core when Sawamura scoots forwards, cock already in his hand, and brings it up next to Kuroo’s.

“Oh, we definitely have to.” Kuroo pants, watching dazedly as Sawamura spits on his other hand and wraps it around them both, rolling slowly down.

“Shit.” Kuroo’s already leaking and it’s not really helping that he can see Sawamura is too. Maybe he really should have snuck off to the bathroom first; perhaps then he’d last a little longer.

“You too.” Sawamura grunts, ankles tightening around Kuroo’s back to pull them impossibly closer. Kuroo mirrors Sawamura, spitting on his palm before taking them both in his hand.

“Shit.” It’s Sawamura this time, and Kuroo laughs deliriously that even now, even though he probably doesn’t even mean to, they’re still locked in their repetition game.

“Daichi,” he tries, laughter bubbling out of him when Sawamura curses again, hand stuttering against their lengths. “I really want to kiss you.” Sawamura’s eyes blink up at him as if through a haze, pupils blown wide and a drop of sweat skipping down the side of his face. Kuroo uses his free hand to pull Sawamura’s face towards him.

“Tetsurou.” Sawamura pants across his lips, gasping when Kuroo’s hand tweaks involuntarily at the way his name sounds falling from Sawamura’s tongue. Kuroo kisses him, kisses every inch of his face he can reach, tugging desperately at the hairs on the back of Sawamura’s neck as Sawamura’s pants fall quicker and quicker from his mouth. One of Sawamura’s hands falls, fondling the underside of his balls and it’s so unexpected that Kuroo feels himself stuttering on the edge already.

“ _Daichi_ ,” he whines, a complaint this time because he never plays fair.

“Shit.” Sawamura’s orgasm shoots out of him, shocking them both with its severity. “Shit, Tetsurou.” He sounds filthy and breathless, his hand never pausing along Kuroo’s length, but his mouth tips up to meet Kuroo’s, tongue tumbling into his mouth on a groan and Kuroo can feel Sawamura’s cum being dragged up his cock. His orgasm is dragged from him by Sawamura’s hand, hits him so hard that he bites down on Sawamura’s tongue, hard enough that he hears him groan.

They stay where they are, panting in the same air, for so long that Kuroo wonders if the sun will rise in the window behind Sawamura’s head, setting him all aglow like an angel. He combs his fingers up the back of Sawamura’s head, glancing at the mess of their laps and wondering if it's normal to feel this delighted by it.

“Remind me to thank Suga.” Sawamura groans.

“You’ll do no such thing.” He kisses Kuroo’s cheek, rolling a shoulder back to grab at his pyjama top and wipes lazily down Kuroo’s chest, descending slowly to where their cocks are still held together by Kuroo’s hand. Kuroo lets go to brush his fingers clean, eyes widening slowly when a familiar face looks up at him.

“I can’t believe it. You’ve defiled chubby panda.” Sawamura snorts, bundling the panda into a ball and dropping it off the edge of the futon.

“You helped,” he points out, grinning unapologetically and tucking them both back into their pyjamas shorts. Kuroo supposes he could have done that himself, but it’s a novel feeling having Sawamura be the one to hold him.

“I’m definitely telling Suga! He got you that for your birthday!” Kuroo pokes out his tongue, knowing that it would thrill Sugawara more than offend him, but his tease still works as Sawamura bowls into him, knocking them both backwards.

“You’re banned from telling him.”

“Hmm,” Kuroo pretends to think about it, drawing lazy patterns across Sawamura's back, “only if I can spoon you this time!” Sawamura’s eyes search his face.

“Here?” Kuroo nods. “Shouldn’t we go back…?” He jerks his head in the direction of the closed door.

“Just for a little while? Please Daichi?” Sawamura huffs a breath of air out of the side of his mouth, flopping down onto his side defeatedly.

“I should have known you were high maintenance.” Kuroo shuffles onto his side, fishing the blanket that was folded at the end of the futon up using his feet and shaking it over them before lying behind Sawamura. Sawamura eyes the blanket suspiciously. “We’re going back soon, right?” Kuroo tucks his arms around him, dragging him close so that his back is pressed snugly into his chest.

“Of course. The blanket is just atmospheric!” His fingers find the sneaking trail of hairs that lead up to Sawamura's belly button, stroking them gently. He kisses the top of Sawamura’s head and listens to the steady beat of Sawamura’s heart as his own starts to match its rhythym.

“Tetsurou?”

“ _Shh_ ,” Kuroo hooks his top leg over Sawamura’s, squeezing him tightly. “I’m trying to savour the moment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just when you thought it couldn't get any gayer _I threw daisy-chains @ everyone._ (/ w \\)
> 
> & shoutout @Siseja whose comment last chapter that Sawamura usually progresses into Daichi quite quickly inspired the last section! ♡ 
> 
> & @stalemateBecks who puts up w/ my yelling about Haikyuu Spice Girls variations & mentored me on acceptable synonyms for peen. A true hero.


End file.
